the sieve and the sand

I love bright mornings
cold air bites,warm bricks glow orange
day breaks over me

When you finally arrive, please let me know.
Let me know that you made it.
(At least when you think you’ve made it.)
When you’ve found success and meaning—
Wholeness.
I’d love to know when reach that place
But there’s this uncanny intuition
That’s telling me you never will.
But if you ever do make it on your own,
Without the help of someone much greater
Than yourself – you let me know.
I’ll be waiting (forever.)

everywhere i go i hear people talkin’ bout themselves
so very short of content but they got alot to sell
they say “every day’s a torment i am in a living hell”

and the rooms they fill with dust
at the mall the body-paint stores are packed

they got the lacquer for the skin of the stars
they got the happenin’ boats and the cars
got easy ways to talk about yourself when its hard

sometimes i see my friends there
they all make me want to go back to sleep

make me
make my
fingers move
oh, make it
make it so
so I can
make the
music, make
the sounds
I made so
long ago
again, just
make me
make my
fingers move
oh make it
make it
so

God and
Greed and
Johnny Dubya
and the Devil
and crying over
SPILT MILK
and crying over
Dead Friends
and everyone
)I mean everyone(
can sit so
high and migh
ty and it’s
sickening
but noone’s
sick enough and
then there’s that
one person gone
and all but for
gotten (forgiv
en) sitting somewhere
too far north to
even think about
but shit, it’s all
a waste of breath
and Mr. Hugo
was right. It’s
time for me
and everyone
)I mean everyone(
to just stop bitching
for just a little
while.

but where you were born
determines your ability to play
in some three letter acronym at the national
scale
be it nhl, nfl, nba, or whoever

but say you’re born in samoa?
you’re probably great at just one

maybe your grandparents are from africa?
you’ll fit in any at all.

but before you say i’m racist
let me tell that you i aint white
i’m as minority as the day is long
in the country full of yella’s

It was at a
restaurant
some other friends
were with me
when you called
and I remember every
little thing you said
and shit, it’s tough
when I look back
and wonder just
how much you really
spewed your bullshit.

I have not found
the bottom of that barrel,
and I’m confident
I never really will.

coming to earth in
human awkward form
running, walking, eating, sleeping
incarnate holiness
still you chose
to die painful death for me

stuck there, hung there nailed there,
till three days later
undeservedly, the breath fades from your lungs
carrying my sin with it
k

i sit staring at rearranged
pixels in a grid made by
god watching plays played
by ghosts
i make love to the marionettes
in my dreams and sometimes
in the wires
of the grid

(on simulated sunny days
in graveyards and in minivans)

remember all the times
you sat staring at mannequins
screaming “WHEN WILL YOU
TALK BACK?”???
so does half of
jcpenny
and the
crossroads mall
security
yet
i
digress.

Nobody really knows, but I’ll tell you
‘way to be’
when you slide one past the radar
and the folks all know just who you are
and every little
piece of your
(fragmented)
personalities are scattered
like plastic cups after a party
and they see you
yeah, they see you
and they know you
(they don’t know you)
but I’ll tell you
every time you think you snuck one right past me
yeah, I’ll tell you
every god damned time
I’ll tell you
‘way to be’

these birds from hateville
they know you
before they see you
but they are beautiful,
enough,
i guess,
and i’m at my wits end
filling this birdfeeder,
now that i think about it!
and why, may i ask,
am i so tongue tied?
you should’ve seen me,
all quiet in the forest
while the bees ate me alive.
ah, you should’ve seen me,
watching those stupid birds
while the bees ate me alive,
and i didn’t even scream.
those birds from
hateville,
the only birds around.

I hope the boys with trumpets
roll through Monday.

We’ll let ‘em swing.
Yeah, that dixieland
that ol’ big band
we’ll let ‘em swing.

The cymbals splish
splashing and the
bass just pounding
and I hope the boys with
trumpets come
‘cuz man, we’ll let ‘em swing