Wakefulness can be Hard
like sharpened ceramic shards
of tiles from grand halls, lost
tied together in vaulted spirals
made to dance on dry old wind
blown in from desert canyons
howling lost demented hymns
grown in minds of timid prophets
sung by sailors skimming frost
from lakes seas and oceans
flowing through the blood of Faust.
Red
This is the story of the red castle bastion
stood at summit of the deep rosy hill
low in the valley of burgandy scrub brush
populated by cardinal, foxes, and land crabs
each with an eerie vibrancy.
who scurry and flutter and fly
as the old copper cavalier gallops on
his engine's flanks shiver and shake off
sanguine chips and flakes
A whinny echos as hoof beats fly by
russet dust agitated, settles slowly
on tiny vermilion flowers
chestnut armor rattles on to that little cherry mountain.
(dedicated to Red Mtn. and the Brothers Grim)
Mayor of Friday
brown eyed chica says "te amo"
as you lift your famous paper hat two inches from your head
about face
return it to gravity's bastion
and put your feet out of doors
you think you're a Bob Dylan song
or the King of the Moon
or the Mayor of Friday
no one has ever told you otherwise
you think you're a Bob Dylan song
just because
you wouldn't say it back
left her standing in the vestibule
but really you're thinking of another girl
and the thrashing you will give her
Fair warning
Fair warning.
I was just in your house.
I just walked in, you told me I should
Sometime, somewhere else.
Now I’m eating breakfast,
And fluctuating
It’s all past tense at the moment,
But I still love you as a case study
And a cautionary tale.
Fair warning I heard you fuck
And your voice
is magnificent.
