Patience and fury. In a bottle. The cool
don't wear shoes in the death of August.
Ice cold whiskey will sit quite happy
beneath a blanket of hot coffee. Yeah. Yes. Chea. Yesh,
please. I make giant eyes when I hear. Okay and not
the words of brain misfires. On the phone. Heels on the wall.
Toes making shadow puppet stories of the fall
of a kingdom and its horses.
In and out. Control board fader goes on its own.
Along for the ride. Loneliness is not much of a talker.
With the wind on your mind. His footsteps sound
distance. Wait for him to break in and sleep
with a hatchet in your pillow case. Sometimes.
Destroy everything that touches down too far inside.
Avoid windows. When the riflemen are watching.
Walk home a different way. Every evening
we count up the stars. Until the night sky
breaks. Open up to
some kind of empty and shatter. The JATO bottle
against the bottom of a trash can.
No one knows. Our little secret. Is safe.
We will find them. We will find them.
Pax de something. If this is being without war
then we will find blood and shed it.
You are too beautiful when you smile. Onward
to the third star on the right. Straight on 'til morning
and you'll know when. You've arrived.
original works of parts
Pocket of Peace
Quiet. Is it peace or is it sadness.
Nothing answers back.
The birds are minding their business,
inside jokes flipping between tree limbs.
I gave away my old mattress
to a gray haired woman next door.
New on her feet from
the shelter downtown.
I remember my time sleeping on floors,
staring at the crack in the baseboard
nights awake because they come to eat you
the moment you close your eyes.
Making angels in snow,
white and wet on her skin, on that mattress
like I did. Back when. Does my body
smell like her son? "You should have been here sooner
I made cookies yesterday and ate them all."
Tie shoes, pull on my cap and say goodbye.
Quiet radio static. Peace is a myth. Over my shoulder
nothing falling apart, only into place.
"I'm scared. I'm scared to death."
My cheek against hers, our lips to one another's ears,
The creases in her skin wipe my tear.
"Come over whenever you need to. I'll talk to you.
I don't mind."
Nothing answers back.
The birds are minding their business,
inside jokes flipping between tree limbs.
I gave away my old mattress
to a gray haired woman next door.
New on her feet from
the shelter downtown.
I remember my time sleeping on floors,
staring at the crack in the baseboard
nights awake because they come to eat you
the moment you close your eyes.
Making angels in snow,
white and wet on her skin, on that mattress
like I did. Back when. Does my body
smell like her son? "You should have been here sooner
I made cookies yesterday and ate them all."
Tie shoes, pull on my cap and say goodbye.
Quiet radio static. Peace is a myth. Over my shoulder
nothing falling apart, only into place.
"I'm scared. I'm scared to death."
My cheek against hers, our lips to one another's ears,
The creases in her skin wipe my tear.
"Come over whenever you need to. I'll talk to you.
I don't mind."
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