Monthly Archives: April 2013

Small Town Train

The rusted path cuts a swath
Across the scarred land
Winding between weathered buildings
That history has maintained – if only out of spite
Thick juicy clouds shade them in cool relief
Once a booming happy place
Now the few who remain
Drive rusted-out Pintos
And drink Pabst Blue Ribbon
Working at the BP pushing Slim Jims and Skittles
Should’ve built closer to the Interstate
Should’ve – but who knew?

A Wedding Sonnet

Lately I’ve been thinking about the day
It won’t be long before you are my wife
And from that day we will begin our life
And just those two short words that I will say
I will continue loving you this way
I’ve thought about my life before we met
A lot of time I wish I could forget
And just one look you take that all away
If I can love you more you know I will
And I will give you everything and then
When we can finally make the time stand still
We’ll never have to be apart again
So thank you for all you’ve helped me to see
Mostly though for giving me back to me

Somewhere in Heaven Tonight

Somewhere in heaven tonight
On the head of a pin on God’s pin cushion
Johnny is dancing with the angels
He’s got his radio in his hand
He’s got his hair combed back
He’s got his dancing shoes tied real tight
And he’s dancing

All the angels love Johnny
And Johnny loves all of them
And Johnny’s happy there
On the head of a pin on God’s pin cushion
Somewhere in heaven tonight

Good-bye Old Man

(for Charles Bukowski)

Good-bye old man
Good-bye old drunk fuck
Mr. Chinaski to his friends
The Suicide Kid
The original Barfly
Looks nothing at all like Mickey Rourke
Good-bye you dirty old pervert
Using your ugly old dick
as a metaphor for your ugly old life
Good-bye to the man who screamed from the balcony
that he was insane enough to live with beasts
The man who made sense out of feeling alone
The man who brought cold dogs to the courtyard
The man who caught my heart in his hands
The ugly – pock marked postal worker
Who lived in the shadow of a rose

You know that heaven has no room for you
And your decadence and perversion
And hell is just a little too tame for you
I wonder where you’ll go now
Probably back to San Francisco

Thoughts of Freedom

The cold black night that once caressed me
Now rejects me in your eyes
And in the sideways glance
of the thick-wristed girls leaning restlessly on the bar

Where there was once the safety of the piercing stars
Lighting my way through the refuse into the hungry night
Now there lies broken shards of the early spring moon
Scattered about the meadow from God’s hand to my heart
The last vestige of a fragmented paradigm lingers on my tongue

The taste is foul but familiar
The taste is foul – but safe – for me
The thin-fingered hand pushes me out
Alone into the cold black night
Where I am deceived by my own thoughts of freedom

Mr. 1971

A hard sharp glare from the little man
Sitting across the bar on Diversey Street
His leather skin is dark and
His salt and pepper beard is chiseled into his face
He looks like a negative from that old box camera I made in 1971
He is looking at me accusing me of some unnamed crime
I am drinking my drink and minding my business
Someone should buy the dark knight a drink
My green is a bit short tonight – bad week
No one bought me a drink all damned night
The younger ones – the ones with the strong backs
The ones with the regrettable piercings and tattoos
They have no idea what Mr. 1971 has seen
They crack their inside jokes and drink cheap beer
They stay just outside of his historical range
Never understanding his emotional depth – the fire inside
He sits there quietly until they walk too close to him
One glare they know to step back to their party
Some of the older men are smart enough to pay respects
I’m smart enough to keep my distance
I should buy him a drink but I won’t – not tonight
There is only enough green for whiskey and me


In your world – you take lovers like candy
In my dreams – I take lovers like water
You dance from boy to man to boy
Kissing – licking – sucking – swallowing
I stagger from woman to girl to woman
Kissing – licking – fucking – cumming

In your world – you eat men alive
In my dreams – women hover over me
Protecting me from the ugliness of your world
While offering me my revenge against you

With Time

So much – so much and never enough time
A shape shifts with the drifting sand
Leaving us to wonder if the riddle has an answer
Leaving us to wonder if sunrise is a promise
Leaving us to wonder

The old man said he never loved enough in his life time
A tear danced through the cracks and lines
In the old man’s face – he said it was the wind
He said it was the wind and he said
He never loved enough
And now it is way too late.

An unfamiliar voice from another time
Spoke softly in my ear in the crowded movie-house
You aren’t even half the way there yet
I ate my popcorn – my eyes never left the screen

Sixty-one Years In The Real World

I saw God in my father’s eyes
On the white sands of Mexico
Standing on the shore in long jeans and sandals

Sixty-one years in the real world
Running in rivulets down his golden face

Sixty-one years in the real world
Bursting the seams of his strong red heart

Sixty-one years in the real world
Calloused into his ruddy hard hands

Sixty-one years in the real world
Behind his wire rimmed glasses

Sixty-one years in the real world
And I am only half the way there

At the Avalon

It’s easy to fall in love in a place like this
Each sweet meaty juicy ass strolling by in black hose
Is a dream that I could never have
A broken hearted fantasy just out of reach

Love is no longer the everlasting
Mystery of my sister’s childhood

Love is immediate gratification that tastes great

I’d like to learn to dance the way these lovers do
But the miles I’ve run have taken their toll

So the love and the dancing will only exist
In my dusty balsa wood mind
And if that is my only consolation
I can live with that
Because the only things that I own
Are my soul and my mind
And I will have them for a long time