it gets quiet enough,

and although it is rare it does happen
usually at night when the traffic has died down
and the only footsteps are drunk ones and
after the bar closes as those footsteps too
find beds to sleep in and even the pigeons
recognize when their dusty wings are beating
the air too loudly,

            for twenty seconds
and for whatever reason only if I am in the
bathroom but before the faucet is running, before
I am filling another glass of water or washing
my face and after the toilet flushes, even after
it is silent completely, if I’m not making noise
of my own, 

                        in these moments

when if you were to step outside, to finish
your glass of water or have a cigarette
you would find an odd chill waiting to lift
up the hairs on your arm and sneak under 
your shirt, not cold enough to lead you back
inside for a jacket, merely to note it as
“one of those weird summer night when it
cools down too much and maybe it means it
will rain soon”

                                    right then

when I am so close to sleep it seems only
under a pillow, when the day has shaken my
legs clean of muscle, when my eyelids are
sliding down a pole to a pile of sad dreams,

                                                if I listen carefully

I can hear four stories down and under the
sidewalk, the subway blurring by, and if 
I am lucky, it sounds like the end of the world. 


Bless this, our water
one more time. Oh,
I beg of thee, to shake
this tree and let the rain
drops go. Soak the leaves
so my dog can lick ground.
We plowed those fields,
sown down with golden
stalks and stretching forth
to rake the clouds from the sky.
All our work, from day to
day, with bent backs
and bruised knuckles,
just to sit beneath this tree.
To feel the drops once again,
fall from leaves onto our skin.


We touched souls,
you and I.
grasping at clouds
as they passed us by.
in the morning mists
when birds turn to song
each warbled note
becomes a strike on the ancient gong.
sounding out the passing day
watching the dewed grass
where we kissed and lay.
We touched souls,
you and I.
first ours and then
others as they filled the sky
whispering softly
like the birds in song
kissing their ears
telling them peace won’t be long.


Another morning,
another day gone by
spent counting the days
and wondering when
my rose will grow

the children dance
and splash the hot sun
smile at passing trains
and ask when
my rose will grow

i’ve watched many years
pass and come, like the tide
mighty redwoods have grown
before my eyes
and no rose grows

to feel the thorn pricks
and dew’s licks
that soft tickle on your nose
from rose petals
that wont grow

another morning,
another day gone by
spent churning the soil
wondering when
my rose will grow


OOOhhh my lord!

I cried again, and was only ignored!

These cries were for joy,

and not for pain.

No sir, not that fucking pain.

I’ve had too much,

and a man can only take,

so much.

But I’ll walk over,

these stumbling stones.

With broken toes,

and shattered bones.

I will not be ignored.

I will not be denied.

Not for the first time!


my body is a cage.
rattling the rusted iron bars,
rattling my bones,
keeping time with the beat.
the baliff left me long ago,
grew tired with these walls.
only the dust to keep me company.
only the germs to talk to.
invisible friends,
invisible words.


She stood on a high hill,

standing in her high heels,

the earth beneath her undulating,

wind whipping her hair, breathing,

the past behind on the sunset,

the future ahead on the sunrise,

birds soar and wheel in nothing,


No price to pay,

only laughter and joy,

she laughed,

like the bird,

she has wings,

like the bird,

she has freedom,

so beautiful,

her smile


I walked out the front door today,
to set out on the lonely road,
a quest to find myself,lo
a quest to unburden my load,
I went searching for peace,
I went searching for answers,
What lies ahead,
what lay beneath,

I dusted the cob webs,
from my darkened mind,
lit a candle or two,
to cast some light,
to shed some light,
to see what I might find,
I tried so hard to find my secrets,
to hide my lies,

what words were inside,
that little paper book,
what surprises I did find,
to see your name emblazoned,
stared in awe as it shined,
saw the whole truth,
spoke the whole truth,
and now I can never lie,

I walked out the front door today,
to set out on the lonely road,
a quest to find myself,
a quest to unburden my load,
I went searching for peace,
I went searching for answers,
What lies ahead,
what lay beneath,
my questions answered,
my quest complete,
I still walk the lonely road,
though not so lonely


smoke from a pipe
from a chimney
smoke from your mouth
up through your nose
into your lungs
from a pipe
from a cigar
from a cigarette
in this house as
we run screaming
from the fire
fire in your pipe bowl
wrinkling your thumb
as your cover the top
yellowing your thumb
from the fire
fire in your pipe bowl
fire in your heart
fire in the house
we run
fire in your heart
you run
fire in your pipe bowl
as we sit in the snow
bundled in warmth
warmth from the fire
as we sweat and run
from the smoke coming
down the halls at full
as we sit and stare
fully relaxed at the smoke
in our mouths
the fire under our thumbs
the burning in our hearts


There is no air here,

we drank it all up in our revelry.

The windows were down,

blowing our ashes across the road.

Town to town we snaked our way

to what,

we call happiness.

Not knowing the road maps venom,

blinded by our wish to pioneer into lost lands

but gravity kept us grounded and reality.

well, reality is relevant…

I never even left…