My shrink introduced us.
She came with me everywhere.
She made the world a ghost I
never had to fear. Lady ******.
We slept together. We dreamed together.
We were married for 15 years.
The happiest years I can't remember.
I still love her. I had to **** her.

Fireworks started early as usual.
   They terrify my pets and veterans
   and I will lose my mind soon and run
   out the door and beat up the world
   or maybe set the atmosphere afire
   steal all the oxygen so no fuses light.

The Irishman's Grave

He had to flee his Ireland.
The God ****** British
stole his life and land.
He floated to America.
John Donovan from Cork
was my great grandpa.
Stubborn as a mule and
strong as an ox he lived.
There's a deep dark hole
we Irishmen bury anger.
God help you if you ever
find yourself in our hell!

poems scattered around the room
in my never ending fool's errand
as poet laureate of Watercolor's
perfect world of happy accidents.
We drool and weep out of context
but scratch a portrait of Sexton
asleep in her car in the garage.
We copy Plath's ****** scene of
geese escaping winter to warmth.
We suffer cures of lobotomies.

I was desperately drunk and desperately in love.
    I made promises I couldn't keep. She invited me
    into her garden. I ate forbidden fruit. Nirvana!
    Pains, doubts, anxieties, fears gone instantly.

    The morning after had a sour taste.
    God and priest and nun and catholic world
    collided with our promised land of love.
    We stayed drugged with flesh and defiance.

    Pregnant, we were married in the Church.
    We had our daughter and a son soon after.
    I wish lust didn't fade with time.
    I wandered and became a cliche.

It's just a perfect day.
We are just perfect.
Our puzzle fits perfect.
Arguments end perfect.
*** in an out perfect.
Proposal on knee perfect.
Wedding was perfect.
Baby girl was perfect.
Hampton's house perfect.
Night's at work perfect.
Hotel rooms are perfect
with my lover so perfect.
Divorce sad but perfect.
Visitation almost perfect.
Proposal on painful knee.
lover showing perfect.
baby growing perfect.
it's just a perfect day?

I see a stone a leaf and a door. I knock.
  It opens and I float into clouds that make
  me step gently. I want to kiss everyone I
  have ever known. Yoko lives for my sake
  in my mind beckoning. I go to her and die
  inside her womb hear ticking of her clock.

I swear broken promises for
entry to your secret garden
I stab your heart once more
and once again beg pardon.

If I brought you the sun would you smother it.
  Would you deem a moon unworthy and turn it off?
  If you had redemption could you swallow pride?
  When I die will you forgive my refusal to love?

Touch my feelings
wet fingers with tears
weep as I weep old
near death's fears

I was a boy then
life was forever
before I found sin
my ****** lover

we rejected Eden
for Satan's fruit
out girl and boy
die in a black suit

In 1940 it was scandalous.
  Let no man put asunder.
  It drove a wooden stake
  through God's great heart!
  Man's hubris knew no limits.
  Shame on the failed divorcee.

  Today with God on life support
  divorce is like a parking ticket.
  Marriage is ******* for a year.
  Kids are game pieces played in
  partner chess moved to beds on the
  board until you're too old to play.

Hospice room's machines
a healthy noise harmony
song of the Opera queens
perfect pitch is the irony.

The end is always near
morphine drip constants
dreams of lovers so dear
death gets what it wants.

The final absolute end
with her infinity reach.
Flowers mourners send
Hymn a buzzard screech.

If I could set myself on fire
and with a lighted heart tell
about the strangers swallowed
in hate and earth's endless
wars. Thousands dead and
missing and where's my dog?
If I could set my life aflame
and shed light and warmth on
this place and strangers then I
would strike the match and die.

I lived in a garret in a rooming house
with dead flowers in an old crystal vase.
We dead always live inside our vanity.
I was in a womb waiting to be reborn.
I was in Boston, 1000 miles from home.
The Italian and Irishman were my friends
and St. Georgine from Jersey saved me.
I'm old still crawling in the birth canal.
I'll be delivered any day now in tomorrow's
muted light my ashes in an old crystal vase.

I gave you my heart but
knew you couldn't keep it.
I'm still expecting you to
hold on to Love to a finish
line that doesn't even exist.
I set fire again and never look
back. I smell the burning
flesh. I hear familiar screams.
The burning flesh is mine alone.
The screams are in my head.

I started it at birth
when evicted to light
tiny fists clenched
begging for a fight.
Angry always angry
Punch you in a bar
buy you a sorry drink
drive you in my car.
I'm the only war dead
buried in my sick head
I surrender to myself
I lie dead on a bar shelf.

Misery of corpses living on the street
pushing baskets with their lives inside.
They see truths with their dead eyes
while yearning for a crust of bread
or kind word or smile or proper grave.
They too were children playing among
fields of gold with mothers tucking
them in at night singing lullabies.

My first fantasy was a Vargas print
of a brunette in stockings and a garter belt.
She kept me at attention for a year or two
and I still see her at 72 and miss her.
Pantyhose killed a world of lust.
We hate you Allen E. Gant Sr.

My mind is cavernous. There's enough
    room for madness and love and petty
    slights and high school crushes I
    thought I'd die without. Nooks and
    crannies where insecurity thrives
    are everywhere. Bats are in vast
    belfries. My giant eye that stares
    me down each night sits where it
    pleases. Old lovers swing from
    drafty eaves flipping me their
    birds. My heart bleeds into a pool
    where all my mistakes feed endless.
    Guilt has its own penthouse suite.
    I dream among the attic's memories.

Time stands still. My movie
plays on in stalled flashes
I imagine us back in the day
relive mistakes left in ashes.
Clock hands frozen at 9:23 pm
tock is silent like French leave
I drink to forget and remember
like the God I want to believe.

The beats are howling for truth
   angry wolves in need of a fix
   in a pack in Central Park at
   3 am, junkies on the prowl.
   They won't be denied a deity.
   Ginsberg's Howl their Bible.

Lover anticipation for a yes
on a knee anybody's guess.
We thank you for trying
you know you are dying
maybe the next poetry
will be of our quality.

A mute mimicking a mime
   for a living set me on fire in
   ironies hot furnace and it melts
   my metal heart where it beats
   silent in death's fierce grip
   pried from God's fingers.

I fell in love with a boy
and I gave him my toy
he said it was forever
always be together
Romeo and Juliet
I'll never forget
our stage in light
the final night.
The curtains close
frozen in our pose.

I put my brittle ego on the line
  each time I send you a drink or ask
  for a dance or your phone number.
  I break a frozen monster's mask.

  I wish I could guide my young self in
  a time machine and calm our fears.
The nest fell apart a long time ago.
I've lost count of the broken years.

play the hand
a twist of fate
pay the band
never too late

the red door
says a mime
Tia's encore
wrinkles time

Born into baffling worlds
With double edged swords
Marching from birth to death
Fighting life to the final breath.

You don't have to be clever.
You don't need to rhyme.
You have to be honest.
You need courage to
write truth upon pages
for others to read and
risk their judgement.
Favored or reviled.
Both have sharp edges.
Poets are never innocent.

Lust is brutal and raw
   blood in a shark's jaw.
   Absolutely pure desire
   humans' procreation fire.
   We devoured us forever
   always find a new lover.

She comes and goes. My wife in
   an instant becomes a stranger
   a vacant stare. Holds her purse
   tighter to her fearing my danger
   There's a loose thread in her mind
   she keeps pulling until she holds
   the end and everything is gone but
   me. She sees it slip from my hand.

Friends and lovers
   years ago in Boston
   I reach back in time
   call you on a loose
   wire and I hang up
   without a message
   I don't know what
   to say tonight
   maybe tomorrow
   sober and older
   wiser and denial
   always an option.

I'm ****** and Genghis Khan
Chuck Manson and Joe Stalin
I'm the monsters under beds
evil clowns coming up stairs
who denied Christ thrice and
left my kids in an orphanage
while I ****** a fallen nun
in Boston. I was saved against
my will. Shrinks gave me pills
to keep hell's hounds at bay.

What stool softener do you use?
Where's the cheapest Fixodent?
I was a ****** in my last life.
Old is a smell you never forget.

Birkenstock's and halter tops
no bras no rules free love
drink acid from the tea cup
bury God the Father and son
smoke hash eat ****** and
keep your sanity balanced in
space and time we have left
with alarm set to overdose.

The mad dog foams and hates down
  dusty streets in Maycomb and we
  need Atticus to put the bullet in
  its skull so it once again can see.

Lightning flashed that night
frequent like a strobe light
an old time silent movie
we loved quiet and free.

I crave love.
I hunger for White Castle.
Your hair smells like rain.
Box Chardonnay is coolio.
Keep me in your thoughts.
I'll spy on you in dark from
the tree in your yard and
sign the divorce papers.

Everything is currency
buy whatever you see
easy for you not to care
just another billionaire.
Have a little more fun.
  Charge us a fee for sun.
We pay you for breath.
    You rent graves at death.
         Subscription only accepted.
        Miss a payment be evicted.

Mommy works a waitress
I quit my job proud protest.
We walk barefoot to dive bar
a gallon jug to fill with beer.
We watch The Point on TV.
We three just wander free.
Mommy cries real tears
frightened by real fears.

When my demons win I'll live in fear
    in ugly memories just before the dawn.
    In a hall of mirrors truths are blurred
    and all I tell are lies, the devil's pawn.
    We stretch light. We slow time. We fill our
    veins with black tar. We welcome the flight.
    It never lasts but the next taste is the final
    shot that will hit the top. Follow the light.

They're hills are huge,
defeat us in numbers
and never give up ever
and always remember.
Marx. Lenin. Stalin. Mao.
Senate and congress now
in broken USA anyway
middle class dead today.

Here lies my innocence, my religion, my hope
and dreams and trust and my caring anymore.
I bury my despair and belief in another lover
next to my naivety. My bones are picked clean.
They are bleached in an O'Keeffe painting
next to the cattle skulls and scorpions.

It waits around a corner.
She haunts your dreams.
Under your bed fluid beast
bleeds through your seams.
You wake in the sunlight.
Wonder at the blood
God's intervention
takes hold of the flood.

Death's lipstick kiss
fire's breath and rain
in blood war's red mist
we pray stop the pain.

Love is slippery full of lies.
I hear promises feel your heat
seduction into my secret garden.
Feast on my sacred ****** treat.

Welcome to Crazy Town.
Everything upside down.
Church for **** priests
steal altar boys' feasts.
I ****** Christ's bride.
I have nowhere to hide,
broke her sacred heart.
Crazy Town comes apart.

Santa Ana winds
angry fire maker
arsonist unbends
pizza oven baker.

Night defeats the sun
    and hangs its pale imposter
    in its own sky
    to wax and wane
    and woo young lovers
    under the boardwalk.
    Monsters hide under beds
    while skeletons fill closets
    and life gets lived always
    hanging in the balance.
    Dawn beats back the dark and
    makes us live another day.

'Til death we vowed
heads fervent bowed
We'd been drunk wild
belly full of child
18 and 19 naive
tonight we believe.

Don't go back in the deep end
for a breath or two, be real
don't break in two just bend
hearts need time to heal.