poems from the basement-
the past comes back to haunt
(you-me..)
i´ll get my paint box..

a look from a man-something
surreal-says lily thoughtfully..
it is death with a moustache..
it is surety-

it is a void
it has lasted 44 years..
the human visage is capable of
an astonishing variety of emotions
and communication..

what is that?
that is some act of wickedness
and the blue?
waves..
a complete lack of humanity
rides forever outward..
what´s that say?
plain clothes..

that star there is
still hope and the green
is the fresh down on
some innocent morn
we will say single or
return..

poems from the basement:
she looks over my shoulder
how we remember it (or
paranoid nonsense..)

i know hardly original is
it-hanging in the balance
(walk that way-)
a single or return..?

there, the ticket master
not normally
so emotional..
will he cry-

let us see-
how much is a single?
and how much is..
a vestige of hope

behind an insect eye..
how long is an open valid
for-what about peak times
ever had any fun..

long times..well, i ceased
listening long ago but
considering his demeanor
(only doing his job..)

we regard each other
outside, trains and rain
now, he is smiling..
in this town of grey pain..

poems from the basement:
a fake knife in the pocket
a marble egg thrown
through the television
sniff the air and returned
go abroad..
a look from a man
a single or return
a bird warning
a look of compassion
off of a waiter
thieves at the bedside table
beautiful women
dead beggars and so on..

poems from the basement:
i liked to live in a tent
i would move from one beautiful

place to the next..
learn a musical instrument
by a stream

and go play in the town
get some money
meet somebody..

go to the library
go to the museum
live on the beach..