The Fallen
I was sitting on a hammock, just me and a broken arm. It said: I'm busted up inside, my elbow and wrist busted in two. I fell off a thirty foot wall and crashed on unconsecrated soil as hard as dried blood on desert ground.

That's no place to fall, I said.

You should know, Tortelli! he exclaimed. I saved your neck, your skull, your ribs from breaking into a thousand pieces.

I left the arm behind. Alone on the hammock I heard his baleful cry: Ingrate! Can't you feel, I'm too fractured to save your beaten soul!

What
What is the Square Corner?
The sun and stars at darkness's edge
Four walls like lonely men
What is the Square Corner?
An absence of time, of space, of wondrous sound
The Square Corner is blinding and light, sightless and unheard
The Square Corner is four walls
Oh, Square Corner, I say: sun and stars snake back from darkness's desperate edge

Lines
Sometimes I take life too hard
I'm on a lonesome highway
Headlights drive by
These black minutes pass like broken lines
I'm 3/4 there, 1/4 behind
Sometimes I take life too hard
I'd turn around as fast as I'm going ahead
But I gotta steering wheel locked on sand and tar
They say once your there, things will change,
others say every thing's the same
One Square Corner just like another?
These black minutes like broken lines I'll leave behind

Radio
Purple Rain was on the radio
It washed away what was dusty and dry inside
Things change, like an old song so new for its time
Now nothing washes away the fading stain
Just an old voice on the radio sings something called Purple Rain
I think I'll sleep now, the bed is dusty and dry like I was inside

Sleep
I used to sleep on a second floor
That summer, the window open I'd hear heated stories of the night
Sometimes strangers
Sometimes people I knew
They'd bellow, cower
Call out things wrong with the other and life as a broken street
That second floor, the window open, taught me about life
I was young and loved and feared the heated story
They'd keep me up. But why sleep when you are young on a summer night?

The Ghost
What is this eternity?
This endless universe? This endless space and time?
What is life?
A few mortal steps and it's done like a cheap steak?
That's right! the Ghost of Charles Bukowski sighes.
So whad'ya got for yourself--a man's life dying inside a yellow post?

The Accident
I just tripped, nearly broke my wrist
Fell in my bedroom
I caught my foot in an old rucksack
Just missed the soft bed
I landed on the hard floor, scratched the inside of my hand
Maybe I should wear that rucksack next time,
go for a long walk at spring's first warm light

The Tip
I'm a horrible person
I know,
I know,
I wear overpriced watches from Taiwan
Cheap sweatshirts that make me look fat
I'm a horrible person
I'll eat more peanuts than anyone else
Grab the most hummus and ruffle chips, leave nearly nothing for the rest
I'm a horrible person
I know,
I know,
I'll speak rudely to waiters
hector,
harangue,
browbeat them over:
a) dry turkey b) salty gravy c) cranberry sauce from an army can
I'm a horrible person
I'm sorry
I'm a horrible person
I know I need to change
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
But that diner food was bad,
It gave me indigestion, put me in a miserable pickle
Horrible or not, the waiter got a tip, it gave him a battled smile