I told myself I would be taking better care
of myself n'at. Getting around to it and what
needs fixed. Heart break hotel, just tell me
what I fucked up on so no one
has to take the same road
you and I took. The weather has been stupid
good of late. I know I always take
too much time looking up instead of ahead.
Beach balls, baby! I know.
Opportunities. I wish we were both
pumping fists toward the sky. Easy.
original works of parts
Dragon Comes Home
Kick bits of tin from between the toes,
shreds of armor from trampled foes.
A little robe, click on the telly,
note garbage day, the cave is got smelly.
Candle lit with a snot rocket,
and me oh my it is easier to breath.
A little yawn shakes the walls,
notch the day and take care of hang nailed claws.
Two birds with one
yawn again
worn out stone.
Put on the kettle full of conquered bones
and a few charred oak trunks to taste.
Breath some fire into the big belly stove,
whistle the song that nobody knows.
No home is a home and no bed
a bed proper
without a good stretch and
a waited for cup of tea.
shreds of armor from trampled foes.
A little robe, click on the telly,
note garbage day, the cave is got smelly.
Candle lit with a snot rocket,
and me oh my it is easier to breath.
A little yawn shakes the walls,
notch the day and take care of hang nailed claws.
Two birds with one
yawn again
worn out stone.
Put on the kettle full of conquered bones
and a few charred oak trunks to taste.
Breath some fire into the big belly stove,
whistle the song that nobody knows.
No home is a home and no bed
a bed proper
without a good stretch and
a waited for cup of tea.
The Get Down (long drive with my baby)
Push rods, cam shafts, crank and belt,
hand wheel windows, shift knob, radio,
no deck. Torn up seats, a little rust and
engine growl to keep company.
Solid steel rear views,
rain soaked iron rims,
one flame decal,
two would be sin.
Ride the white hair mammoth
out of time,
embrace hot vinyl
against skin.
Chrome littered
how long have we been datings.
I know you do you know mes.
Touching downs and ups
and whisper words greedy
both ways in tumble rough V8
and slip clutch English.
Howl to me and I will sing you back.
Together we will mow them down.
hand wheel windows, shift knob, radio,
no deck. Torn up seats, a little rust and
engine growl to keep company.
Solid steel rear views,
rain soaked iron rims,
one flame decal,
two would be sin.
Ride the white hair mammoth
out of time,
embrace hot vinyl
against skin.
Chrome littered
how long have we been datings.
I know you do you know mes.
Touching downs and ups
and whisper words greedy
both ways in tumble rough V8
and slip clutch English.
Howl to me and I will sing you back.
Together we will mow them down.
Smoker 34 (sluice candy)
Open locks
the boats go through and horns fire off
to let them know
the passage is okay.
Another kind of trainspotting
at the river
skipping stones in the palm.
Sunlight pounds a skull like a five ton yon.
Tug boats, big red barges, and little white roy G spiked speeders
slowed down until the moonlight shone.
Lits of bits and gravity nicked
until they rip their way home.
Trainspotting, line knotting
rod and reel are boned.
Never miss, never miss, another butt in an emptied beer.
Close locks.
Baseball 7 (ode to the Lions)
You want a war? We'll give you one.
Team crossed fire eyed boys
a man to a head, wringing bat grips like i.o.u. express
tickets to hell, mound to plate and back.
You come to our town and expect us
to lay down? No sir. No sir.
Bring your swords, we're bringing polished barking birds,
sights level, barrels still stinking of cleaning fluid.
Leave your keys in your cars
you'll need them soon,
we booked our field through evening, but
we'll punch your card by mid afternoon.
End of the season takes me back
to January BP, and learning how
like, fuck what was that?
Slow deuces, sliders, two seam heat.
Four seamers and dug out dust ups,
all of it restraint.
Worship, worship, pray to the gods, touching grass
and sand and sod and brim and belt and junk and spit.
High sun, night lights, pine tar and pure grit.
For the batters box and left hand gloved, all our violence saved.
Here, at home, the team we've grown is where we make our names.
Here, at home, cleats kicking plates is where our souls go bathe.
Here, at home, here, at home is where we flaunt our manes.
Team crossed fire eyed boys
a man to a head, wringing bat grips like i.o.u. express
tickets to hell, mound to plate and back.
You come to our town and expect us
to lay down? No sir. No sir.
Bring your swords, we're bringing polished barking birds,
sights level, barrels still stinking of cleaning fluid.
Leave your keys in your cars
you'll need them soon,
we booked our field through evening, but
we'll punch your card by mid afternoon.
End of the season takes me back
to January BP, and learning how
like, fuck what was that?
Slow deuces, sliders, two seam heat.
Four seamers and dug out dust ups,
all of it restraint.
Worship, worship, pray to the gods, touching grass
and sand and sod and brim and belt and junk and spit.
High sun, night lights, pine tar and pure grit.
For the batters box and left hand gloved, all our violence saved.
Here, at home, the team we've grown is where we make our names.
Here, at home, cleats kicking plates is where our souls go bathe.
Here, at home, here, at home is where we flaunt our manes.
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