Ask
Draw me a circle; smartest people I know
Then in common voice you may say:
Your skin seethes of rancor and sorrow,
Your eyes burn too low,
Smoke rises from your ghostly ears
Find peace, before loss bleeds your soul

I want your words, your beseeching wisdom
In desperate voice I demand this peace smart people know

I
Night
Castaways
Cast asides
When night falls they sleep in doorways
lay in alleys
bleed old blood under a crazy moon
they scream,
fight,
stab,
rob,
steal,
beg,
they call out names:
mother,
father,
sister,
old lovers, new lawyers,
they plead with cops
run from their sins, their crimes, their long pasts

When night falls, so do they
When morning rises, they live behind a crazy moon

II
Shoreline
I am a road noir
Alone I drive at night
An old Rambler rumbles,
one light burned, the other lit dimly
Things my eyes see, my skin feels:
the gutted gas stations;
the dead inside diners;
the vacant motels;
those roadside cat houses with flesh eaten whores, hurt of body and soul
At day's light I'll touch a bleary coast,
So my hope rises to a life anew
but black oil turns to black smoke
my engine moves slower to a deathly stop
The radio on plays an old preacher's song:
God to the Rambling One. Like Moses to the Promised Land you'll never see.

The Long Way Home
I walk along a dusty road
A desert hat atop my head
In the distance rests a clear blue pond
With a hollow cane I move near,
touch my lips to the cool water
wash myself of dust and mournful thoughts
Refreshed under the blazing sky, I feel good
But the dusty road is long and I am weary once more

First Base
I make a pilgrimage to find an old foul ball
My bat twisted sideways under a twilight sky,
Hit many years ago, over the bleachers out of a sandlot field
I search for what I can't find
I'll make life fair, I'll hold the ball one last time

Spires
My life is a stained glass window
Light, like a church I once knew
An old Irish neighbourhood, the incense rises
Smoky to sweet, holy to the smell
Christ's blood spilled
Hard pews rest hard lives
Shawled woman in beads of prayer
Epistle, resurrection, sermon on matters of man, son, God
Sacrifice and sin, confession, the unburdened soul
The church is gone, the spires worn down
Desolate, this disbelieving one, inconsolable most times
The Son rising in truth or fairy tale, peace melding the rancorous colours of morning glass,
Sorrowful of life that never was
The shawled women whispers a rosary prayer

The Big Smile
It's all the rage, the newest fashion
But it's not my turn, years have past
I wear old clothes, the collar turned up. I grin from ear to ear

Old Photo
I saw a lady in a Square Photo
She wore blue jeans under a hippy dress
Stars and flowers, beads in Aquarius light bent in astrological pose
This photo is like a memory of a place I'll never know

Broken Dreams
I've been dim witted.
I've drank with seasoned veterans of dead-men saloons and bucket-a-blood bars with morbid madmen breathing bourbon sorrows on crazy, cracked tile floors.

I've been pilloried and vilified.
I've followed groaning, grunting sailors into bawdy houses and lain with broken women, their bodies covered in bruises and busted kisses; their perspiring dreams; the burning heat of creaking beds; hearts torn by hands dipped in the devil's bile.

I've been held to account for my twisted sins. Never by those seasoned veterans, by those shore-leave sailors of broken dreams. But by Godly eyes at the cold sorrow of it all.

Corner's Edge
I got a blog, soaking wet
Tears of joy, tears of sorrow
Tears from a soft summer rain
I swim sometimes in an old Square Corner,
like a quarry with cool water, jagged stone walls
I dive deep down, see how far I go, then rise to a far sun
dry myself on a Corner's Edge, and pray from me as One
Answer now, I think, in a soft summer rain

The Page
Too many words hold me down
Stories, verse, turn of a phrase stitch me into time and space
Recollections like a stone bridge, cemented in then,
Weigh on me, this heaviness in words, this story a page turned

Thanks

These rocks inside my head. This lead on the bottom of my soles. Most times I live by the skin of my teeth. But I thank God for this only blog, and the angel hearts on my fingertips.

Balls of Cotton

I walked in a maze of styrofoam and thin wire. The walls were light, easy to push aside. But I moved on till all that was me gave out. Then they took me away in rolls of cotton batting, satisfied my eyes were still on fire.

Sleep
Sleep come by, lay on a bed of ice
Sleep, Sleep, Sleep
Feel the cool waves rise

Drowning Man
I got me tears inside a dream
Small footsteps like whispers, a soft summer reigns
Fleeting heart, this lover's dream

Oak II
I stood under the shade of an old oak tree
An old shovel breathed in rhythmic time
I do this to stay free, he said
Once I was afraid, mostly of myself.
So I meditate. Praise the tree above
What do you fear now? I asked
The Roots buried deep underground
I slipped away from the ancient shade, and understood more about this wandering me