Somewhere I cannot see
is every word I'll ever need.

Somewhere I've never been
is the last place I'll ever go.

Somewhere I'm at last alive and
somewhere I died long ago.

Somewhere is adoration while
mostly there is hate.

Somewhere it is peaceful,
somewhere is equanimity.

Somewhere there is God and
we will shake hands like gentlemen.

I'll tell Him that I'm sorry
and He'll tell me
why.

Back and forth and
up and down.

Visions of us as broken glass
crack-split surface but still recognizable
shards of us on the ceiling
shards of us on the floor.

Back and forth and
up and down.

In a long decade of poverty
I could not rub two nickels together
to make one
blessed
dime.

Yet my bed stayed quite warm
and
good work was done between and about
the
sheets.

There were times of bounty,
in an obliquely spiritual sense,
like smoking gifted cigarettes
and drinking mud brown bottles
on the porch with the riffraff
at three am.

Along the outer edge
of the circling drain
there is a certain frivolity:
decks of cards
pool cues and
beanbags.

All good things,

you know.

Now its the noon-day sun
and wistful remembrances
of vagabond evenings with
no harm done.

You can't go home
again.

I can hear your reply when
I say that I still just don't get it,
"There is nothing to get and
even if there was why
would you
want
to?"

A strong argument.

Oh to win back yesterday,
to reclaim lost time and
retire to the islands.

To stop wearing clothes
and pound sand suntanned,
stand bare before the elements and
be my very own
lighthouse.

Lately,
I grow tired of all this

humanity

the throngs
the masses
these friends
Romans
countrymen

caged in this charade
of taxes and neckties
Lord how we toil
on this
mortal
coil.

I want to
feel it
when the sun goes down and
your legs open the length
of a heron's wings,
when dew falls upon the vine and
the air bears the flavor of
honeysuckle
citrus.

How much longer can we
and the Earth around us
go on?

Out of the void we came
to plunder and pave
when all around us
was such awe inspiring
magic.

A Eulogy For All The Wide-Eyed Darlings and Dreamers (For The Ghosts Of 1533 S. Main)

Clever line
Clever line
Clever line
Clever line
point.

Clever line
Clever line
Clever line
Clever line
point.

Clever line
Clever line
Clever line
Clever line
point.

Bittersweet wisecrack.

Poignant and heartbreaking
remark.