The day breaks

The day breaks

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Damnable Fact

It is entirely possible
Construction does not draw correlation
With communication


And even if it does
What I’m looking for
The turn of the wheel
That gives us commonality
A way to see what you’re saying

Feel me

But if the way you seek
Is simply using words
To get to the heart of the matter
I want to touch you

Free of the artifice
That hides true intentions

And if that’s possible
In the end
We’ll know what you mean

That’s the problem

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Hyphenated Name

The mix is rich today
Can’t find my phone
Walking the rooms
Maze and haze
Where are my keys

If there is a heaven
And we all secretly hope there is
Will there be bartenders

Can drunks on the steps
Drink all day in a neighborhood bar
Without dire consequences

I know a hot shots outcome rictus talisman
Bathroom spiking preoccupied with constipation
Locked door an early manifestation of DNR

So what
Why weigh one death more worthy of reflection
Every death’s an ending to earthly interaction

No damn shame in that

We don’t know what might have been
Certain only of what was left
Recordings of Lenny Bruce
Library of Babel

All the things you can’t take with you

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

I Believe in Circular Rotation

The snow comes a mute swan to cover my feet
Of clay to be rendered down when the weather warms
A puddles indentation briefest mention in a drought

Sing my days diminution a Beatles tune
Day tripper in a Somerset South Sea story
Dance for a sixpence without pants

Ignore the ignominious 
As they you
Tip your hat a swell in the deep end
Hold your nose against the din and all that 
That entails

Entrails and garden path’s lead you astray
Wink of a winsome lass pony tailed
Swishing hey how you doing

It warms mid afternoon light flickers on
Reflective surfaces distorts all images
Real or imagined in sleeps recesses

A nap most welcome settle for a quick smoke
Turn off the cell phone unplug the computer yank
Throw the modem over your shoulder for good luck

Hang your socks over the radiator slip on a disk
Play some NOLA Gris-Gris Tom Tom and Tambourines
Leave your hat on the turntable spinning