Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
above the traffic
and the circumstance,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You made me sing at my guitar,
a grown man falling to defeat.
Now I cannot find The Answer
in the company I keep.

The game is rigged, we know it is,
in a hustler's *******,
the bank cartels
and corn-fed chicken
descend upon the weak.

I held you in my arms
on a precipice brave and steep,
above the breadlines
and the cannibals,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You have me writing poetry
about landscapes left unseen,
you kissed the addict on the mouth
and now he's looking to get clean.

But the day is long, you know it is,
forgive me for sounding bleak,
a sucker for
those sad, sad songs,
and that chemical retreat.

I am not working on perfection
in a lifetime stretched and brief,
but I am working on a promise
that for once,
I intend to keep.

See, I've got a knack for giving up,
for feigning inner peace,
I've had my fill of oil spills
and the slaughter of the sheep.

You've felt it too, that burdened love,
the dead-end of familiar streets,
you lay down with him,
habitual ease;
lilac skin now a slab of meat.

The dignitaries come,
the friends you have to meet,
a compromise of ancient ties,
amongst the ******
and the thief.

Words are falling fast for you,
though I lack the skill to piece
all the fragments you paint for me
in this temple of disease.

The race is run, you know it is,
a pace we couldn't keep,
our lungs are full
of cigarettes,
our tongues of old deceit.

The Lie is out amongst the crowds,
but I have no time for war and peace;
I am slipping into
my lover's robe,
into your twisted sheets.

Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
this wolf's disguise,
those bells that chime
at the slaughter of the sheep.

hairs stood silent and upright as lips did the talking

each bird has its own branch and i am alone now
in mid-february midnight desolation
under a web of stars white as salt and just as plentiful
waiting on the celestial cyclist to bring the dawn across
my face and scorch the cool wet grass

tonight the clouds are arranged like a chessboard
a cosmic design in darkness and light
and i am a crippled pawn meditating with
with my pants off and my naked feet
in the sand of a north florida crossroads
trying to lose my own gravity and merge
with the stars cloaked in maniac faith
and american sweat

i'm waiting to be found by a bush doctor
with my head filled and floating like a nitrous balloon
under a canopy of hi-frequency bats
and the infinite disco ball hoping
this mighty poem might expand
time and fill space

i am no longer a jail cell poet starving
and pacing like a goldfish in an orange jumpsuit
the miraculous sunbreak has touched my deepest cells
hypnotized my life and caught
the tears on the right side of my face
i am a bee trembling in sunlight
salute me

i hope there is a mild breeze today
to dance sensually with my drifter's spirit
and swirl blond hair and pure cotton against
the sky at the top of this abandoned railroad bridge
covered in rust

all the sudden i am singing radically
about overcoming cosmic humiliation
bruise-purple tongue unhitched and lilting
long throat curled up toward the sun
as the birds and deer stand dumbfounded in the clearing
the sound resonates in my gut as my big white
teeth slam together

in this devout moment among
my share of god's abundance
i am only approximately human
one with the smell of living trees
dancing on the salad hillside
big eyes birthed inside sunset colors
soaked in warm honey with toes
twitching above the imagined
fire at my feet

when the singing stops and
the sun goes down i melt
back into my own temporal lobe
caressed by a butterfly finally
able to sleep

I don't want to be that girl
the one in the way
or the one who cries from the pain.
The girl that they look at and see needy.
I'm not that girl who needs people,
but every once in a while I need a friend.
Someone to be there as a shoulder to cry on
or to give me a hug on the few times I need one.
I don't want to be looked after
and I don't want someone always there.
I want to be alone to write
to draw
to cry
or to bury myself in my music.
I need them there during the hard times
the times I break and melt down.
When the pain gets overwhelming
and theres nothing I can do.
Just as I know that, that's when they need me.
I'm there for the hard times
for their melt downs
and overwhelming pain.
Yet, when I need them
they are no where to be found.
It hurts to know they don't see friendship
the same as me.
"Friendship isn't about being there when it's convenient,
it's about being there when it's not."
I guess a true friend is hard to find.

I became so addicted to the feeling of nothing
that when I started to feel you
I went through withdrawals.
I wanted so desperately to forget about
the nice feelings that ran through my mind
when I thought of you,
because I became so intimate with being alone
that leaving the vast isolation of myself behind
felt like I was killing the part of me
that taught me how to survive.

There’s a crack in my mug
There's a hole in my mouth
There’s a share for the drug
That’s pulling me south

There’s a spot on my side
Below my left arm
There’s a bruise to my pride
That’s causing me harm

There’s a thought in my head
That won’t go away
Before I am dead
I must have my say