Sad Song on Repeat

after a day surrounded by philistines
a not yet broken poet takes refuge
in the familiar peace of desolation
echoing quietly through two small speakers

years ago this song came to him
in the most serendipitous way

lost in a record store
lost in his changing taste of music
intirigued by its title
he purchased the album on a whim

when he got it home
to his roach infested efficiency apartment
it proved itself the perfect companion piece
to the cheap bottles of scotch he'd grown fond of

most of the tracks were laced with enough angst
to keep his punk spirit burning
yet calm enough to sense something
he'd been waiting for
was somewhere
on this album

and then it played
track 17

at first
he couldn't believe he'd found it
the song he'd been waiting a lifetime for
but upon a few more listens he came to realize
it had found him

duetting vocals literally sang his name
in a tale of woe
and misguided love
against strings picked softly
in the warmth of a minor key

it comforted him
it said
"if you never have anything else
you have me"

years later
it tells him the same


-for "Everything's Bad" by The Tossers

Old Strings

dying to stay in tune
they rattle eagerly to play
one last song

The Last Day of February

Winter will not go with a whisper
but its last scream is near

an Iowan stares out the window
at a backyard covered in snow
patiently
awaiting Spring

roads that are clear for bicycle rides
green parks that welcome a lie in the grass
layers left at home

a folded scarf
placed on a shelf in the closet
with gloves and wool cap

he knows March will not be a picnic
that this blanket of white will not vanish
tomorrow

but
soon

warm days may not be here
but they are close
and sometimes
close is enough

Winter will not go with a whisper
but its last scream is near

[two minutes to write]

two minutes to write
better make it a haiku
no time for sonnets

Halo of Flies

Pat's dad drove us to Minneapolis
to see a rock legend on stage

we listened to a tape i made
of some favorites
i pointed out one song
proclaiming in my cockiness
"i know they won't play this one!"

we banged our heads on the highway
letting the excitement build up
until it we were boiled over
with the energy of youth

getting to the arena early
we clasped ourselves to the fence
front row

we endured through three awful opening acts
and finally
Alice took the stage

a worship far more vital than for God
swept through the hall
and we were among true brethren

screamed until we could not speak tomorrow
listened until we could not hear
and i was even forced to eat my words
when the band started playing that deep cut

ultimately
the concert ended
the arena emptied
and we both grew up

i haven't spoken to Pat in sixteen years
and that happens
people in different directions

but i always think of him
when i listen to track three on
Killer

Touch The Hand of The Guard

quick to lock ourselves

in a prison cell of arrogance

incarcerated by our own egos

freedom can not happen

until we reach through the bars

to touch the hand of the guard

understanding

he is in this prison

too

[we are all worth more]

we are all worth more

than the bread crumbs they throw us

minimum wages

[i wanted to vote]

i wanted to vote
but looking at the ballot
i wondered "for what?"

[disregarded flesh]

disregarded flesh

from abattoir to your plate

feeding dominion

[dawn is a coffin]

dawn is a coffin

stars take their graves in morning

come night, resurrect

A-minor

all of my weary and all of my woe
is made into perfect sense

a common thread in my favorite songs
familiar tones of sadness
the beauty of malaise

i strum away at chords i barely know
but when lost in the strings
when lost in life
i always go back
to Am

You're A Suit

tailored finely to be worn proudly
on the dance floor
on the moon
over top-shelf martinis
over the rainbow
in the office
or anywhere

meant to be seen
strutted with esteem
down the daily runway

a high standard of fashion
bulletproof to criticism

strong threads
from collar to cuffs
belt to hem

too beautiful for the closet

Caterpillar Worries

sometimes the butterfly is afraid

to leave the cocoon

that its wings are too bright

that it might be shunned

by caterpillars

what the butterfly must realize is
that its wings are not only a new beauty

but also a new utility

able to fly far away from

caterpillar worries

A Letter From Yesterday

i know that you miss me
we were happy together
and i don't ever want you to
forget

i want to always be there
as a warm place in your mind
a loving place in your heart

but
i also want you to move forward
seizing the day that is in your arms
ready for each that follows

what we had was wonderful
a moment in time that should echo
in the deepest parts of your soul
and help to excite you
for what comes next

i know you miss me
but tomorrow
needs you more than i ever could

A Letter From Tomorrow

i know that today was not
what you wanted it to be

a job that left you
feeling empty and aggravated
a lover that left you alone
with a memory that
will take time to shake

i know that what you want
right now
is just to crawl into bed
fall asleep to the t.v.
and spend the next twenty-four hours
unconscious
in a state of slumber

you don't want to wake up in the morning
having to face another day like today

i promise
you won't

i
will be
different

i cannot guarantee you will be happy
with all i have to give
but you have my word
that it will not be the same

so before you hit the snooze button
come dawn
know that i will be waiting for you
and i am as much yours
as i am anyone else's

Overcoming Adversity

seven legged spider
climbs up the wall
near a ceiling corner
he sets his trap

a web on which
many flies will fall
all this in spite
of his handicap

Ying-Yang

before you cast ill-tongues toward darkness

realize that

observing shadows is what guides us in light

[clearing out his fridge]

clearing out his fridge
they found the ingredients
for meals never had

Speak Up

there will plenty of time to be silent
when the abyss avalanches down upon you
burying you deep into eternal absence

so raise your voice while you still have one
because even if you can't yell tomorrow
you can still echo

Relativity

do not weep when the bird flies away
from your window sill

be grateful that it ever landed there
even if just for
a moment

that you were there
to witness its brief song

that your eyes took fortune
in the glowing light of its feathers

and know
that when it flies away
there are infinite avenues in this universe
and just because you are still here
and it is not
does not mean
it is
gone

[dog out of kennel]

dog out of kennel
barked and ran all 'round the yard
dreads going back in

Day Trip

Riding to Des Moines
with Uncle Dan.
He's got cards to play;
I've got apartments to scope.

We talk about women.
He wonders if that tall drink of water,
met over sushi yesterday,
is thinking about him as much as
he's thinking about her.

We argue semantics.
"You don't
know,"
he exclaims,
"you assume!"

No pit stops,
bathroom breaks,
or dilly-dallyin'.
He's gotta be there by 11:15
if he wants to get in the game.

Checking the time,
he picks up speed;
racing the GPS.
"30 minutes, my ass.
I'll have us there
25!"

Gentrification

i followed the pigeons
to Gordon park
just to hear them coo

their electric feathers alive
in the sun
sparkled like bejeweled jackets
heads dancing to a song i
could not hear
at first

but when i listened closer
it came bursting
orchestrally loud

suddenly there was music
spilling from the tree branches
winds serenading through bushes

for a brief moment the park sang to us
belonged to us

me and the pigeons

until the seagulls came
and chased us
away

Lemmy After Death

i don't ever want to rest in peace
and i certainly don't want any of my friends
resting in peace

some of us grew up listening to punk rock
and speed metal
but most of us just never grew up

we weren't afraid of aging
we sure as shit weren't afraid of dying
we were scared of getting old

kept our stereos cranked
trying to shake the angels out of heaven
let the gods know that we weren't laying down
that we would keep it loud while we were still here
on this earth
and after

so when death comes knocking
he better have a goddamn Motorhead record






-for Daniel Cline

Est. 1974

i'm writing this to you
my friend
because the last time i said goodbye
it was passive

i thought for sure
we would be sharing drinks again

i took it for granted
i shouldn't have

i get along with most people
but that is not to say i like them

i liked you
loved you

you were a brother soon after we met
maybe even right away

i remember your first words to me
seeing me eye each woman that walked in the bar

you said
"man, you are huntin' for pussy tonight"

you knew me too well

your humor was apparent
immediately
so was your love for metal
in that Obituary - Cause of Death shirt

a knowledge of food
as impressive as knowledge of music

and what i liked most
more than the laughs
more than the drinks
is when it was just you and me
bellied up to that bar
truly talking to each other

truly listening

so i just wanted to say thanks again
not just for the laughs
not just for the drinks
not just for the help with jobs
not just for being a friend

but for being an original

there's never been enough of those
and now there's one less


-for Daniel Cline

In One Kiss (Mysteries of Love)

in one kiss
four lips translate
all the languages of the world
into a story none of us understand

The Corpse That Got Away

granted only one night
to rise from her grave
we lived in each second
with the cherish of eternity

in the brief moments we had
she shared her death with me
and i
my life with her

to the quiet music of decay
she allowed me to lead
but when she left
left me alone
in the cemetery

Birthday

i didn't call her
because i felt like being alone
and celebratory sex wasn't going to be enough
to validate another year of suffering myself

another notch in the belt
just makes me think twice
about the next piece of cake

another revolution around the sun
and i just wish the sun would go away

wish the sky would stay dark
wish the moon was always there
wish i never had to miss the stars

but
if i was that serious about it
i probably would've bought some candles

Fruit Vendors (Matters Of Trust)

a man with a cart of oranges on the side of the road

sells them with acclaim for their juice

sweet citrus that excites the tongue

for a moment of pleasure

i trustingly pay him with change from my pocket

and at first bite i know

that the product

lives up to his claims

another man in a room with his name on the door

framed papers verifying his

knowledge of all things fruit

sells blends of various concentrates

perfected recipes of long study

he attests will sweeten the very day

sharpen the ordinary mind

in marvelous ways

i decide not to buy

having not the means in my pocket

and an overwhelming suspicion that

he is full of shit

[squandered precious gifts]

squandered precious gifts
laid down for worthless fortunes
when men turn soldier

Mother

her trunk was strong with love
for each apple that grew from her branches
but she would never forget
and would always blame herself for
the one that fell before it ripened

Don't Leave The Monster Unattended

how quickly my wits left me
in the chaotic hyperbole of a Saturday night

whiskey and weed were not enough
those every night adventures had grown trivial
and this was a night that called for something
special

phone calls were dialed to shady contacts
eleventh hour appointments were made
congress of the underbelly

girls like ravaged angels
danced barefoot on shag carpet
lines reminded me of Houdini
disappearing as they hit the glass

at dawn
i took one of heaven's broken creatures
back to my place
we made god cry
then cried for ourselves
knowing that a night that should have never began
was far from over

Mannequins

properly posed
ambiguous displays of humanity
quickly buying into one another
so far as to even believe
they are alive

Folk 2

in one man's cabin

the trees see a graveyard

Folk 1

the trees used to tell tales at night

about lumberjack writers

Redemption

sitting at his wooden writing desk

with a blank piece of paper in front of him

the lumberjack tries to make the most

of the lives he has taken

[to abort mission]

to abort mission

was no option to Hannah

who demanded life

-for Hannah Szenes

[coiled around the branch]

coiled around the branch
serpent and tree become one
as all life should be

Serpent Or The Egg

coiled in a moment of wonder

to ponder the venom of his existence

remembering every instance

that he prepared himself to strike

with no recollection of hatching

how it came to be this way remained

a question

nature versus nurture?

soul versus environment?

surviving the jungle

leaves little time to find the answer

as to what came first

Evil

wilted petals of a rose
once preciously red
had dried
grayed
and began
to resemble death
instead of love

what was meant to represent beauty

shriveled into hideous decay

in the last days of their relationship

lips that tasted sweet
became sour

passion that was
at first
exciting
became poison

her neck

which he'd pecked
with so many soft kisses

seemed as if
it was daring his hands

to be clutched
until there was nothing

left in her eyes

ultimately

he did not

and she never realized
how close she was

The Slip

going out for Golden Gloves
when i was a teenager
i trained as hard as anyone
paid close attention to the science
my coach
Ronnie Walstrom
taught me

when it came time to spar with the other guys
i could never get inside
never land a punch
but i could slip

at one point
Ronnie even said
"that's some of the best slipping i've seen,
but you're arms are too short to connect, buddy"

i've applied that same mentality to the rest of my life
and instead of ever trying to win
instead of going for the knockout
i just make sure to
get out of the way

Covet Of The Morning Star

sipping cocktails in a dark corner bar

lit with cigarettes and neon

we edged ourselves closer

to the end of our stools

to the end of our drinks

to the end of each other

vodka tasted like heartbreak

bitter and familiar on the tongue

something we were both used to

her eyes ciphered cryptic messages

as if she was summoning fallen angels

and sure enough

i fell from grace

into her devilish caress

My Knee

my knee is there
if i need to bend my leg
my knee is not there
for me to beg

if you place an empty plate in front of me
i will feed off of my own integrity
i'll go hungry

i'm not looking for charity
i just want to see an end to disparity
so you can take my food
but you can't take my verity

cause the truth is what keeps my soul fed
but i bet you keep on lying 'til we're both dead

i even think you fall for the lies you tell
buy into the shit you sell
deceive yourself to believe yourself
and get fed well

your kitchen and my kitchen will never compare
your cupboards are full of fare
when my cupboards are bare
but i am never going to ask you for what you can spare

cause i don't want
your peanut butter
and i don't want
your jelly
i just want the opportunity
to bake my own bread
and fill my own belly

my knee is there
if i need to bend my leg
my knee is not there

for me to beg

[when war is removed]

when war is removed

it is easy to mistake

humans for angels

[raging hive of bees]

raging hive of bees
stingers pointed and ready
anger will kill us

Peasants At The Castle

malnourished
but their guts are burning
with well fed fires of inequity

dressed in drab and tattered threads
but their souls glistening
with the luster of revolt

shouting
to be heard
demanding
to be seen

but the heart of a king
is deaf and blind

The Oddity

there once was a drop of water

misplaced in the ocean

that was meant for something more

never belonging with other drops

lost at sea

lost in itself

waiting to evaporate

dreaming of becoming rain

He Knows What Love Is (And It's Gorgeous)

her lips turn upwards
a giggle sputters from her gut

and for a brief moment he knows that
one laugh is more infinite than a kiss

He Knows What Love Is (And It's Ugly)

looking over the backs of his hands
observing blemished knuckles
scars from punching walls
and refrigerator doors
recollections of vituperative outbursts
come flooding back
when jealous fits of rage
overwhelmed the room
intended to frighten another
into being controlled

all in the name of love
always the culprit
always the muse

Girl At Work

vanity is her most cherished companion

arrogant youth she never expects to fade

pleased in skin not yet tarnished

insipid notions treading safely in the shallow

darling of dim-wittedness

[ballet of corpses]

ballet of corpses
arabesque in the graveyard
her dance-floor of death

[if we go swimming]

if we go swimming
i am not a life jacket
you need to know that

This Ship Is Going Down

captain tries
to steer his vessel
into clear water
but his crew
is high on junk
using shreds of the sails to tie off
and a storm
without distinction
takes the addicts
and everyone else
on board

How Flowers Are Made

sunlight makes love to the earth
an orgasm of photosynthesis
from the heat of their passion
tulips are born

Magic

human beings are animals
and we should
absolutely
celebrate that

when we are hungry
to enjoy a good meal
when we are horny
to enjoy good sex
or okay sex
or any sex
when we are thirsty
to drink
when we are angry
to yell like savages at the top of our lungs

but we should never forget the magic in us
that we are equipped with almost supernatural imaginations
that allow us to create beautiful paintings
write wonderful stories
sing
and play instruments
generating melodies that speak deeply to our emotions

we should marvel in the reality that we are more than
what we eat
who we fuck
carbon based bodies
approximately 57% water

and with this
i intend no disregard for the glamour
of other beasts on this planet
loyalty of the dog
agility of the cat
flight of the bird
and even the tenacity of the cockroach
they all have their own magic
as well

but we
in all the complexities of our minds
or souls
if you are one to call it that
should never cease to overlook our potential
to be truly remarkable

My Rose

put a million miles between me and my rose
shoes worn away from the journey
i will arrive with toes calloused
feet stained in earth
and legs swollen

between me and my rose
you can light a thousand fires
and i will look upon the petals with eyes black from ash
touch the thorns with fingertips of melted skin
breath deep its floral fragrance
through nostrils clouded in smoke

stand a hundred soldiers between me and my rose
and from a man of pacifism will rise
the fight of endless armies
awakened warrior with fists
clenched tightly
jaw
clenched tightly
and a heart like a tank
that will plow over whatever
stands in the way

[kiss of agave]


kiss of agave
syrupy sweet cactus blood
tequila, my love

[there are no blank slates]

there are no blank slates
each decision stays with you
learn from your choices

[submerged so deeply]

submerged so deeply
in abysmal woes of self
he makes his last choice

Load In/Load Out

into another corner bar they go
climbing stairs covered in clumps of snow and ice
praying they don't slip carrying stacks of drums
hundreds of pounds of amplification

they set up in the corner
keeping a path clear
so that people can still get
to the bathroom while they play

untangling mic chords
untangling guitar cables
setting levels on the p.a.
tuning up

all in the hope that people will show
and listen
and maybe sing along
and maybe care

but even if no one does
they'll wrap the chords back up
stack the drums in a pile by the door
grab the hundreds of pounds of amplification
and load everything out
down the same set of snow and ice covered stairs

[his wings are lazy]

his wings are lazy

buzzing around the same pond

a fly scared to change

[splendid bit of glee]

splendid bit of glee
response of a mind tickled
nothing like a laugh

[what happened to it?]

what happened to it?
pen with which he wrote the note
ink of his last words

This Song Is Wanted For Murder

it opens with a violin
slowly bowing its premeditated plot
stalker lurking in darkness
waiting for a victim to stroll by

the verse comes out quick
a guitar strung to kill
impatient accomplice
along for the bloody ride
just looking for a thrill

and finally
the chorus
mastermind of homicidal harmony
bares a barbarous smile and stabs deep into the heart
multiple times
until the listener is left
dead
in his tracks

[she heard him crying]

she heard him crying
before the knock at the door
two cops with bad news

[palace built of smoke]

palace built of smoke
foundation always burning
ignorance's blaze

[misgivings of tide]

misgivings of tide
familiar qualm of the sea
home where we are lost

28 Days of Purification

a man can be no more ready for February
than he is for his own death

bringing in the second wave of winter's strike
icy flakes whipping in the wind
relentlessly low temperature

shortest month of the year
but you wouldn't know it to take a walk in it
to brave its breath upon your cheeks

it comes on with the bravado of a thousand Januaries
a small dog with the teeth of a wolf
not to be understated

just when you wished the season was ending
it leaps back to into bitter action
with shivering esteem

a man can be no more ready for February
than he is for his own death