friday nights no longer
have their after-glow
the buzzing silver light
guiding me to you
to the beers
to a place like home
warm, naked
entangled in your
bed

friday nights end
flat-lined, alone
the work shift over
at midnight
my muscles quake
my spirit rumbles for
something more
than this.
the streets
holler and i ignore and
sit in the cold
smoking a cigarette
with the smelly, crazy-eyed
bums
in the shelter
waiting for the bus
which will bring me
to the place i sleep

but i have no home

that’s you
pointing to the stereo playing Bruce Springsteen
then pointing to me
you’re going to
explode one day

i cried and shook
my insides contracted
and released
sitting in a corner
of the kitchen
i asked you to turn
the music
off, but you had
something to prove

you’re going to explode
one day*
you said again
and finally i stopped the
crying and looked up to
you and my face
let you know

i will explode one day
and you will not be
there
to see it
you’re going to miss the show
and there will never be
anything else like it
something that was once yours
will no longer be
but it will continue
going, building strength
and power
till it erupts
and the sight of
the smog sky, the ******
sun
will not be yours
but another man’s

you understood and
left me in the corner,
alone and longing for
that day

the loneliness is stiff
in the air
of this apartment
wine and menthol
cigarettes
quiet cat
in a corner chair

some days it gets so restless inside me,
i cannot breathe new air
i am vacuum sealed
there is only tossing and turning in tight space
you gnaw in me, demon man.

the sorrows of lost love always serve as the muse.
i want to
write about something good, something fresh
and beautiful
but some days it gets so restless i could pull my thick hair out
and drink myself sick and burn my skin and parade
the streets in fierce strides as a torn thing
what is this pain?
i imagined it as a kid and materialized it to reality.
why does it hurt so much, i asked, to fall in love?

this has been a deep slice
the answer bleeds warmer
you are getting there
closer
the knife pierces
the truth rushes  free
yes,
here it comes

Feel like I'd like fishing
Sitting there
Alone
On some body of calm
Water
A little rowboat or
Canoe
Early in the summer morning
Listening to the birds
Rise and the golden light spread
In the sky
Leaking through the
Willow trees
Sitting there
All day
Waiting

Feel like I'd like fishing
Sitting there waiting
Been waiting
Everyday
Anyway
Been waiting
For something
To come
To happen
My whole life

Been waiting
For an answer
Might as well
Wait for a fish to bite.

the night clings
to my skin
as it was meant to
spring is over
petals of blossomed
trees
hang on cobwebs
the car stereos blast
from the streets
and indoors
a man sings
i shall be released
to empty seats
worn booths with
the leather torn
dusty red drapes on both sides
of his stage

only i
am here
my palms outstretched
like a cat gazing
outside a window
waiting

my palms outstretched
asking
when? how?
can anyone see
this as now as me
and
who will it be?

do not know
the color of my eyes
sunlit

shattered bottles
glistening
on moon drenched streets

even as a broken pair
we're prettier than
most things well