shepard fairey








gustav dore

our boys

death and burial


Sunday, July 25, 2010

Prove It Every Day

I’m not looking for accolades, or
even thanks; I just want to stay close;

if ever, anything stands in your way,
it will move. Our time is long gone,

but there’s still some things can be saved.

My Orbit Spun

out and I took a crazy track.
baby, all I want is

to do your will;
and that other thing

someday, again

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Bad Things

I got to thinking about you,
and you, and you; you all
burned me down again, and again;

I gave up the wild life and
everything else to raise
those children; I do remember

giving it all up for love. So,
if you’re in the neighborhood,
stop in; we’ll have a go; when you

come, I’ll bet you still cry like a baby.

Love Comes Along

dragging its knuckles,
jaw on the floor;
the air, it gets heavy.

I looked across the room and into your eyes;

words won’t say what goes in where,
and won’t what goes in here; but

we never backed from
that first eternity
we’d dropped into.

And, later, that night,
our mouths telling
tales to our tongues,

truth you could never take back...

By god, we were something new,
under the sun; smoke that one,

The Cry Of Love

breaks from the heart with unmistakable
violence, leaving, broken at your feet,
the shards of what you thought was sure.

I was born reluctantly, I can tell you.
I put up the same kind of fight; knowing
what was coming, I’d as soon have

just dreamed it. No offense intended
to any persons living or dead.
I’m gonna go ride my bike.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Baudelaire, Rimbaud, And Dylan Thomas

might want to weigh in; unfortunately,
that won’t be possible. In their stead
we have Ruefle, Strand, and Kinnell.

A good trade, if you ask me; those dead guys
would be a bit naïve for so complex an age:
where be the irory, where be the jive?

I Am The Ocean Of Life

Slung so in space, we can barely locate
ourselves, although surely we’re always
right here, and this moment just keeps

extending its coil, and the manifest corpses
of our plans trail behind us like hair; don’t
turn to their entanglements; keep silent

keep moving; we have a long way to go.

Celebrations Of The Sensuous

can no doubt grow tiresome to
those in the hinterlands of alone,

but my message today brings hope.
In every shire, from the dew of dawn

will emerge a sheen shalleen, a lass
fit for every lad. And their golden days

will fill our minds with
the gray mist of the lost.

Our Love

I moved to you
without hesitation
without thinking

we were indeed
the intended was
made visible

in our bodies
tangle of limbs

seeking the purchase
to drive home
our love

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Less Saying

more doing is my new credo, you
should be first to know. I have to
catch up a bit, lay into the flesh
a ittle more, bring it all to my center
and disappear into my actual physical
body, thereby inverting the natural
process and (a side effect) ensuring
immortality. I set time aside already