Shivering

As the temperature drops
I watch a horse
Sleep standing up.
The top of a tree
Swings in the wind.
I think it must be hard
To get up
To sleep like that.
The tree top
Stops swinging.
The sun slides
Out of a cloud.
I walk home
And say to my wife,
I'm quitting my job.
What will you do, she asks.
I haven't thought that far ahead.

Another One

Most modern poets I've read
Are teachers at universities
And they receive endowments
And fellowships and grants
That allow them to write
And still live a life of relative comfort.

I am not a teacher.
I have neither received an endowment
Nor ever claimed to be a poet.

Nonetheless, here's another one.

When Life Was Better

When life was better
We drank more wine
When life was better
We stayed out all night
Every night
Or so it seemed
When life was better
We ran around in circles
Looking for an adventure
When life was better
You loved me
Or you
Said you did
Over and over
Until I almost believed it
When life was better
Way back when
We all had
Something to hide

Stalking

On a cold afternoon
I waited
In a car
For you
To come out of a bar.

Books

If you look around
My elegant space
And see books everywhere,

Neatly stacked
Or displayed on shelves
My brother and I built,

You will think that
I am smarter
Than I am.

Better Luck Next Time

I told a girl in a bar that I tell fake stories what is that supposed to mean are you a bad writer she asked no I am not a bad writer I said it means my fake stories are true and my true stories are not I added so are everybody's she said can I buy you a drink I asked no she said why not I asked what I would like is for you to ignore me she said how about I take you out in the parking lot and pull your pants down and throw you over my knee and give you a proper spanking I said that would be nice she said yeah it would I replied I'm calling the police she said and pulled her cell phone out of her purse you do that I said and walked outside and sat in an alley and thought that didn't go as well as I'd hoped and wondered how I might retool my pickup style

Skin

I watched a guy get his ass beat outside a strip club.
He kept saying quit hitting me.
Quit hitting me.
The bouncer kept hitting him.
I wanted to say, hey man you proved your point,
But I rely on those guys
To steer the girls to my cab
Instead of the other cabs parked on the street
So I lit a cigarette and watched the scene unfold
Like a Nazi sympathizer or a greedy asshole.

Over The River And Through The Woods

On Christmas Eve sometime in the seventies
My cousin was sitting on my father's lap
And he told her that not all kids received presents on Christmas.

My cousin who was about three at the time started crying.
My grandfather (a good man and a gentleman) ripped my cousin off my father's lap and said something like she doesn't have to hear that. She's three years old for God's sake. I never saw him so mad.
My dad said something like the kid needs to know the truth and a fight commenced that drove my father to tell my mother that he was leaving and never coming back because he couldn't handle all this middle-class bullshit.

My father and my uncle Jim went to a bar.

I have spent a couple Christmas Eves in a bar and it's not that bad. For instance you have a perfectly good reason to feel sorry for yourself and everybody needs to feel sorry for themselves once in a while (whether they admit it or not) and it's nice to have a free pass to do so and being in a bar on Christmas Eve is a free pass if there ever was one. It's you against the world and that is kind of sad but also liberating. Christmas Eve in a bar makes you feel like a man with nothing to lose and that always makes the drinking more poignant and so what if you're alone, that's how your going to die anyway and it's good practice (if nothing else) for the inevitable.

My dad was back in the morning and we all pretended it never happened.

Dead Guy Beside The River Continued

I guided the cops
Through my backyard
To the river and pointed
And said there he is.

Stand over there,
One of the cops said.

The sun went down.
The tree tops were blowing.
What do you think happened,
I asked a cop as he walked
By me on the way back to his car?

Not sure, he said.
Can I go home? I asked.
I'm freezing my ass off.
Stay put.
Someone might want to talk to you, he said.

About what? I asked.
I showed you where he is.
Just stay put.

So I stood there and watched
A bunch of people circle the guy
And write shit down
In little notebooks.

After an hour I said fuck this
And walked to my house.
What's going on down there? My wife asked.
It's going to snow, I said, and turned on the television.

How can you watch TV,
My wife asked,
When someone might have been murdered
Two hundred yards from our backyard?
It's Monday Night Football, I said.

Dead Guy Beside The River

My wife found a dead drunk
By the river behind our house.
Or I surmised he was drunk,
He was definitely dead.

She was walking down the river
With our daughter and she saw the dead guy first.
And hightailed it home.
And told me to investigate.

Did Tally see the dead guy? I asked.
No, I shifted her attention and came home to tell you, she said.
How do you know he's dead?
I don't.

I walked to the river
And checked it out.
She was right about him being dead.
There wasn't much that I could do
So I walked back and said, he's dead

And called the cops like
That's ever done
Anyone
Any good.

Oh, Say Can You See

Black Elk
Was picking
Blueberries
In a Minnesota field
On a lovely
Summer afternoon

When he was
Shot in the back
By an immigrant.

Crusade

Come all ye faithful
Tired weathered and true
I'm to gather a band of men
We are to liberate Timbuktu

I know it's not politically
Correct or courageous
To follow our broken hearts
And ignore the clever sages

So let's march down the dirt road
Until we win or die
And let's let our state's continence
Dictate our peace of mind

Along a righteous path of virtue
Where only few have rolled
Let the folklore and the essays
Immortalize our souls

Ashley Judd

She's
The
Coolest
Girl
In
The
World

(But)

I
Can't
Be
Swayed
By
That

(For)

She
Could
Turn
My
Heart

Into
A
Pile
Of
Broken
Glass

Murder Ballad

There's a dirt road behind my house
That runs under a power line
Up a half mile
To a copper mine
I'm going to bring my girl
Cause she doesn't love me and she never will
She doesn't love me and she never will

Bar Flies

He bums me a smoke and buys me a drink
Looks me in the eye
Smiles and winks
Tells a couple lies
About the way it was back when
He was a great artist or something

He bums me another smoke and buys me another drink
He looks me in the eye and says, you're full of shit
It's not that he's wrong
Or that he's right
But sometimes
You just don't want to hear it

He bums me another smoke and buys me another drink
He looks me in the eye and says why don't you have any cigarettes
Why don't you buy your own drink
Why don't you toughen up
Get a job
And your head out of your ass kid

Left, Right, Left

I have to get it up
One more time
Around the track
And back again

I saw her standing
Under a rainbow
Talking to a little girl
Who looked just like her.
She glanced my way
And smiled at me.

It didn't help.

I’m in hell
with another lap
to go.
I run like an Indian
or a buffalo
toward a swamp that isn't real.

I was a soldier
Young and strong
A long time ago.
I ran fast
In circles
Through the woods,
For a pack of cigarettes,
A six pack of beer,
A bottle of scotch,
Whatever.
It doesn't matter.
Never did or will.

I watched her walk
To her car with her
Little girl.
She looked my way again.
I turned my head.
She opened the car door.

I said to myself
Let's go.
Have to march up that hill.
Left
Right
Left
One more time.

Bad Road

I have miles to walk
Across roads
I’ve walked

I will never return

I’m tired
Hungry
Cold
I have miles to go

My faith is gone
My horse is dead

So I walk
And when I walk
I am alone

Adam Scott

In Singapore
He was
Head and tail
Above
The field.

Gonzo Guerrilla Warfare

What doesn't kill you,
In the Army
Makes you smarter.
Sometimes
It takes a little luck.
I guess I'm lucky.

Although
It's pretty hard
To get killed
Hanging out
At Fort Benning
Drinking Jim Beam
And smoking dope.

I did
Jump out
Of an airplane
Every couple months
And as for the Army
Making me smarter
Lets just say
It didn't kill me.

A Conversation About Country Music And The Decline Of Western Civilization

We were sitting in a bar on the wrong side of the street.
You always overrate country music, she said, did a shot of tequila and kissed my cheek.
I took a pull off a glass of whiskey. Sometimes I underrate it, I said and lit a cigarette.
You can't smoke in here, she said. For instance? she added.
Garth Brooks, I said.
You hate him, she said.
Maybe I'm wrong, I said.
Because you don't like Garth Brooks doesn't mean you underrate him. You are right about him, at least, she said.
Because you agree with me doesn't make me right. I might be right about Garth and I might not. I don't really like Roger Miller and he's good. I think Hank Williams, Jr. is better than Hank Williams and just about anybody that thinks they know shit about the subject would tell me I'm full of it. Shit, that is. I finished my drink. May I have another, I asked the waitress.
If you don't put that out I'm eighty-sixing you, she said.
I put the cigarette in my empty glass. This world gets more fucked up every day, I said. I am right about that, I added.
Because you can't smoke in a enclosed space? she asked.
Yeah, I said.
I thought we were going to go out to dinner, she said.
Let's. I hate this place anymore, I said.
Don't be bitter, she said and smiled.
I'm not. I just hate watching the decline of western civilization roll under my nose in the guise of the greatest thing since clean air, I said.
She walked over to the jukebox put a dollar in and punched in Sweet Dreams. Do you feel better? She asked.
A little, I said, and gave her mighty fine ass a little tap.
She laughed.
Would you like to dance? I asked.
I would love to, she said.
I'm a crap dancer, I said.
That's alright. I'll lead, she said.

Talia's Colors Go Around and Around

Kiss me one more time sweet wind about your hair I feel it slide along the passionate boulevard of your arm

I am not as sensitive as you are sublime ask any question your brave heart desires

It is not that hard to lay down in your arms and listen to the music of your sweet and many charms

I watched the sun rise I watched it set and I watched your face change from mud to cement

Beauty does not last it lurches and it skirts it flirts and it yawns and leaves us howling like beasts at God

Love is natural nature is proud the river rolls by us and doesn't make a sound

Ramblin' Gamblin' Me

I was swimming in the river when the wind blew by
A sweet sad love song I could see it in her eyes
She didn't want me anymore she was trying not to cry
She smelled better than ever the day she said goodbye

I got into my old car and drove as far as she went
Ran out of gas just outside Juarez
I walked across the bridge sat down in a bar
I fell in love with a whore she has a golden heart

We sang folk songs in her grandfather's backyard
Her mother cooked dinner her brother picked guitar
It rained every night the river overflowed
I got a letter yesterday that said I forgive you

So leave me alone I have myself a wife
That treats me like a king if I treat her kind of nice
You drove me crazy until I drove away
So leave me alone I'm down here to stay

Waiting For A Truck

I was talking to a guy
On the side of a dirt road
In the desert.
He said,
The world is fucked up.
I nodded
And lit a cigarette.
You got an extra?
He asked.

2 - 15

Would it matter
What I did yesterday,

If I brought you flowers
On Valentine's day?

Pulp Fiction

packed bus in the middle of the night
between Louisville and Fort Knox
in a bar in the St. Louis airport
I bought dinner with a voucher
provided by the Government
drinking whiskey and smoking dope and cigarettes
in someone's motel room in Denver
a tall skinny mean looking dude yelled
get up you worthless pieces of shit
this is going to be the longest day of your miserable lives
a Sergeant picked me up on the side of the road
in front of my father's condo in the mountains
at the crack of dawn and drove me to Montrose

Better Than Nothing (A Man's Job)

My brother ties flies

In his study

Out in Avondale

Surrounded by books

And records.

He drinks imported

Beer after beer

Listens to Waylan Jennings

Dylan

The Stones and

The Old 97's.

He stays out of trouble

(for the most part)

And seeks perfection

In his own way.

If he ties the fly

Correctly

It might catch him a fish

Someday.

And that ain't even

The point.

Spare Time

In my spare time
I write line after line

(about
women
drugs
booze
bars
bar flies
sports
high school
the Army
dogs
music
Linda
Trish
Penny)

I hope
it adds up
to something
someday
but if it doesn't

what the hell

I'm not doing
anything important
anyway

One Thousand Years From Now

I used to be a prostitute by prostitute I mean I sold real estate in Phoenix during the boom (when money grew on trees and by growing on trees I mean falling from the sky like a flock of birds during a red rain storm by red rain I mean like the great Peter Gabriel song) that left the whole country broke when I was married and by married I mean shacked up with a girl I met in the Fly Me To The Moon Saloon while I was playing a one string fiddle in a Delta blues band when she kicked me out I joined the Army by Army I mean Army unfortunately and when the Army kicked me out I became a pilot by pilot I mean I delivered pizzas while I was flunking out of college I was in rehab and by rehab I mean a self imposed exile from my drug doin' and bar flyin' friends I mostly kept to myself and read a lot of books about ex - presidents and those books inspired me to vote for the lesser of two evils by lesser of two evils I mean John Kerry the truest test of this shit (by shit I mean this poem and a couple hundred more) will be can it travel by travel I mean through generations and will it make sense and resonate that's a long shot by long shot I mean a million to one

How Much I Love You

If I had the money

I would buy you a tower
The best tape recorder in the world
A field full of flowers
A giant bag of cocaine
And an Irish Setter.

That’s how much I love you.

I - 85

Joe was driving. Rick was singing along to Night Ranger. Steve was sleeping. I was rolling a joint. Earlier we saw Jay Leno in a bar with married and coupled friends and when they went home, Joe said, let's go to Atlanta so off we went. About a third of the way there I had a feeling I was the only person awake in the car so I said Joe, and when he didn't respond I said it louder and he said shit and the car started fishtailing. Rick woke up and said what the fuck? Joe got the car under control and we decided to head back. When we pulled into the barracks' parking lot, Steve said, where are we? Back where we started, I said. Why aren't we in Atlanta? Steve asked. We didn't make it, I said. At least we aren't dead, Rick added.

Christmas Morning

What am I supposed to do with this? I asked.
Shove it up your ass and spin it, she said.

Cold Walk To The Tavern

Truck doesn’t start
too cold
a long walk
to the tavern

An old jukebox
Johnny Cash
Patsy Cline
and the Rolling Stones

Too tired to dance
sit and stare
at a picture
over the bar

John Wayne
Marilyn Monroe
a neon Budweiser sign
a machine full of warm cashews

Folsom Prison Blues
Strange Sweet Dreams
Jumping Jack Flash
gives me a headache

Something To Tell You

An orange light
Glows like a cigarette
I forgot to smoke.

I light one and look
For a picture of you
I took

At your sister's wedding.

I sit in front of a window
And wait for your headlights
To appear in the distance.

I have something to tell you.

A dog barks.
A star falls.

I must have fallen asleep
Because you say
Baby you shouldn't have waited up for me.

Distance

Dead tree
Under

Gray clouds

Cover
Sunset

Field
Of tall grass
Yellow flowers

(sad
sweet
used to be)

You stand
Watch me

Walk into
Howling wind

Gone

patient
orange
sky

silent
cold
lake

trees
steal
light

I sit in a cabin and think
or wonder where the hell you went
the other night
and why you didn't come back

if you ever will
and does it even matter
to anyone but me

1971

My father thought he was a revolutionary. He robbed banks, blew up buildings and marched and sang we shall over come some day. My brother and mother and I followed him around the country. He couldn’t stay in one place for very long.

My mother met him at the University of Michigan and said that it was love at first sight for the both of them. My father was organizing anti-war rallies and he was a pretty big fish in a fair sized pond. He met guys like Eldridge Cleaver and Jerry Rubin. He said they were good guys but he was little jealous of them. They wrote books and became National celebrities and he was getting older and wasn’t making much money. My mother comes from a wealthy family but my father was full of pride and my mother's parents didn’t like him so he wouldn’t accept any assistance. He was a cook at the student union while he went to graduate school. He was writing his dissertation about a anti-war priest, I forget his name. My father's heart wasn’t in it though.

He wanted to be a warrior but he wasn’t one. He wouldn’t have lasted two days in the Bolivian mountains but he wanted to go and do his part. He thought that it was a great struggle between right and wrong, good and bad, black and white. He was confused my mother said. But his heart was in the right place and he loves you and your brother very much. He got in with the wrong crowd, but he thought that they were going to lead him to his destiny. He told her he had connections. She told him to be careful but he wasn’t and now he's in jail.

Excuses

If I were making excuses I would tell you that I've been drinking too much for years and when I met your mother I was married with a family and she pursued me. I would also tell you that I used to come and see you when you were a little girl until your aunt made it uncomfortable for me to be around. I sent you birthday and Christmas presents for years until I was told that you weren't receiving them and to please stop sending them. I should have kept trying and that's on me. Truth be told I've made too many mistakes to count and they all don't involve you. I wasn't that great a father to the kids that grew up with me. I think it's important for you to know that you have a brother and a sister. They don't know about you but if they did I would think that they would like to meet you. I know that this is all a lot to consider and I wouldn't blame you if you told me to go to hell but I can help you if you need help and I would like to if you'll let me. I know this is all a day late and a million dollars short but I am what I am and it would be foolish of you not to use me. There are things I can do for you and you can hate me anyway. I will understand and I have always and will always love you for what it's worth.

Sam Shepard Said

I would trade
My Pulitzer Prize

For a rodeo belt buckle.

Under A Quarter Moon

In the woods
I sit under a tall tree,
Count the stars
And wonder
What happened.

What We Dream About

home is what we dream about - trains don’t wait for us or stop where we stand - we run to try to catch them and jump - the tracks are here for all of us - something we see and trust - smell and feel the breeze as we flash - past mountains scarred by memories and blessed by sacred songs and chants - inevitably a guard makes the rounds - lights a torch and looks for us or someone just like us - we watch the ground through a crack and try to ignore the pain and cold - our clothes do not fit because they shouldn’t we did not choose them - we're not meant for regulations imposed - by authorities we neither acknowledge nor respect - the law is waiting - we know - just a little further up the track - they will not take us home they will take us back - runaways are easy to identify - kneeling in pitiful yellow uniforms we sigh while washing cement - worthless shameful christian work - some sort of punishment - we were happy once not that long ago and we remember - so we must keep our treasonous thoughts to ourselves for now - that’s okay we can run away again tomorrow

You Can Only Watch So Much Television

In the evening
Or the end
Of night
(it makes no difference
when you're up all the time)
I hear
A song
Play
That never stops
Or really changes

Until the lamp dies

I change the bulb
But the light is gone

Just like her
(and it won't come back)

Until
Time stops
(and time never does)

Twelve Hours

When the sun set last night we sat in the kitchen and you said, I love you, but I can't live with you anymore. I thought about that for a few minutes and walked to a bar and drank myself sick. When the bar closed I sneaked a beer out the front door and stumbled to a lake and sat down on the bank. I watched a dog sniff at a hole. I yelled, hey, come here! He ran away and left me there thinking that maybe I'm meant to be alone. You called me on the phone and said, are you coming home? I'm not sure I can walk, I said, and watched the sun rise over the water and a cluster of Oak trees.

Urban Cowboy

Sweet soft
Water fall
Rolling down
Your skin.

A hawk flies
Across a purple sky
Looking for
A gopher to kill.

I sit in a bar
Waiting for you
To never come.

At 2 A.M.
I wonder
Where you are.

The pretty bartender says
You have to leave mister.

Yeah I know
I say and smile.
I have a long walk
To nowhere to make
Right now.

I scored tonight.
Not enough.
Never is.
Nonetheless
I’m OK
For now.
So take care
And fare thee well.

Storm Chasing Fire Across The Valley

Clouds rolled swiftly

Over under and around

A doomed aircraft.

True That

It ain't no fun

When nobody loves you.

It ain't no fun at all.

Treatment

If I made a movie it would take place in the seventies in and around a large mid-western city and it would smell like marijuana and sound like the E. Street band playing Racing In The Street and there will be snow on the ground. Much of the action will take place in a bar. It will be a love story to a certain extent and there will be elements of science fiction when appropriate. There will be some gratuitous violence but no car chases. The main character will have a brother they will fight all the time and disappoint each other but he will be the only person the star can count on when the shit hits the fan and it will. His father will be a semi-famous painter who is preoccupied with himself and his next Jackson Pollack imitation and the adoration of his (pseudo-intellectual) fans. His mother will be an overworked nurse. She will try to steer him in the right direction and fail. His girl friend will be a bangin' hot whore. She will sell him out to the man that owns the bar. The ending will be ambiguous and leave the viewers confused. However, if I do my job, they will be able to figure it out if they discuss it with their husbands, wives, or friends for five minutes while they drive home from the theater and my next movie will be about a peace time army company or two guys who start a punk rock band.

Places And Faces

I remember places. I’m a cab driver, that’s what we do. Remember places, sometimes faces, I wish I could forget yours. Not an option. So be it. I was a soldier once a long time ago. Soldiers endure. Some things are tougher than others.

Cold Island

Tall tree
Leafless
This time of year

Hidden sun
Pokes out
Once in awhile

Snow falls gently
On grave stones
In December

Who knows
The dead
Are gone forever

I do
And you
Should know

I will
Love you
In the next life too

I'm The Kind Of Man

I’m the kind of guy whores tell their life story when I give them a ride from one motel to another.
I’m the kind of guy drunk girls fall in love with for forty-five minutes in the middle of the night.
I’m the kind of guy who knows where to party until the sun comes up.
I’m the kind of guy no girl wants to marry. I’m the kind of guy who dies like a dog, alone.

Cool Night In Arizona

Three flags lay limp beside an expensive so called classy establishment.

Under an awning three cars wait for their owners to give them something to do.

A bellhop reads a magazine.

A four wheel drive truck races through the parking lot.

A drunk bums a cigarette from the valet and staggers across the street.

Beneath a street lamp two girls barter with a cab driver.

The scene described is what it is. Nothing more. Nothing less. Even though, I made some of it up.

Hitch Hiking

Long road - nowhere yet

Long time sitting on the side

My thumb out - tough shit


I would kill a bum

For just one cigarette as

The mean old sun sets

Looking For Something

Like a beat up old car

I
Roll

(By roll I mean walk)

Down
A dirt road

To no town
Tonight.

If I Had A Dollar

If I had a dollar I would buy you a boat. If I bought you a boat it would be a toy boat. If we could get your toy boat to float in the tub we could close our eyes and sail to France. If we sailed to France we could hit the beach at Normandy. If we hit the beach we could pretend we're soldiers and shoot imaginary rifles at imaginary bunkers. If we shot imaginary rifles at imaginary bunkers we would kill imaginary Nazi's and become imaginary heroes and feel good about ourselves. If we survived the assault we could go to a cafe and drink wine and eat bread and cheese. If we filled ourselves with wine we could go to a hotel and make love all night and wake up refreshed. If we woke woke up refreshed we could take a train to Amsterdam. If we took a train to Amsterdam we could buy some hash. If we bought some hash it would be real hash and we could get stoned and stroll the red light district. If we strolled the red light district we could pick up a prostitute. If we picked up a prostitute we could take her to a hotel and play Russian roulette with our hearts. If we played Russian roulette with our hearts we would have a clean slate and a fresh start. If we have a clean slate and a fresh start we can ask God to forgive us for all the things we might do next.

Software

if this works
will you

release yourself
into my orbit

float around
like a satellite

send me messages
from where you are

Bar Chords

a guitar player told me
while we sat in an empty bar
on a hot afternoon
somewhere in arizona
listening to eric clapton on the jukebox

flirting with the bartender

that you can only write so many
drinking songs

how many? i asked

one hundred two hundred tops he said
and killed another bottle of beer

Skewed Haiku

My dog and I pause

Beside an old gray farm house
During a snowstorm

Iced over
Pond
Tree
Falling down
We walk around

What Could Have Been

In a time of great promise
We sat in a restaurant
laughing at a waiter
Who kept screwing up our order.
We didn’t care.
I drank wine instead of beer.
You told me that your father
Is the best man you know.
I told you mine isn’t.
You said that’s too bad.
The waiter set a plate of fish
in front of me.
I ordered steak.
I think he has a crush on you, you said.
I doubt that.
I think he does, you said, and took a bite of my fish.
Not bad, you said.

True Or False

My wife told me the other night that I am without stress and I am uncomplicated. It's kind of a compliment, she said.

For the past month I have abstained from smoking pot because I had to take a piss test at work.

About an hour ago I chased a girl out of Walmart and grabbed her by the waist before she jumped into a car because she owed me a hundred dollars for driving her across town in my cab to score some dope.

I settled for half the fare.

A cop told me after I told him what happened that I have no right to touch a client who doesn't pay me. What am I supposed to do? I asked. Don't get yourself in the situation, he said.

If I had a dollar for every time someone sat in the backseat and asked what is the most interesting thing that happened to you tonight? I could take the week off.

Fall

Soft snow falls lightly

In a park beside a lake

A man rolls a smoke.

Balcony

I looked up
And saw you
Looking down
At me
Smiling.

When you are young
You have no idea
What you will regret.

Now I am pretty old
And I have a
Reasonably good idea.

A Tribute To Mick Ronson

Frank Lloyd Wright
Called architecture
Frozen music.

Think about that for a second

And It will make perfect sense.

Beside A Lake

You stand with our dog
At your side
Beside a lake

Watching the small waves.

You laugh.
I throw a stick.
The dog runs.
I smile.
You shrug.

I Remember

Going to see Night Hawks, Thief, The Little Drummer Girl and North Dallas Forty with you.
Going to San Francisco with you and Jenny to pick up Jody and bring her home.
You dropping me off on a mountain pass somewhere in Colorado.
Taking me to Mervyn's to pick up a T-shirt on my wedding day
Giving me a ride to court when I got caught pissing in public
Picking Michael and I up in Durango and taking us to Ganado.
Taking you to a Peter Tosh concert. (You sat outside because it was too loud but you told me that you enjoyed it.)
Going shopping in Gallup.
Doing laundry in Black Canyon City.
Eating pizza at the Tree House.
Sharing a cheap motel room in Bakersfield.
You buying me cars
Paying my rent sometimes
Bumming me smokes
And giving me hope
When I was just about to let go of the rope.

Reality Sucks

In my dream
I'm a little too artsy
For my own good
But nonetheless
All the critics' darling.

When I wake up
I can't
Tune my guitar.

In my dream
I'm an aristocrat
Sitting on a beach
Drinking gin and tonics
Watching the sun
Slip behind a volcano.

When I wake up
I check my pockets
And there's nothing left
And that wouldn't be so bad
If I weren't fifty-thousand dollars
In debt
And in desperate need of cigarettes.

A Good Night

Laying on her bed eating
Corn dogs
Hamburgers
French fries
And ice cream bars
Watching a movie
Sean Penn made
About a Bruce Springsteen song.

(Viggo Mortensen gets out of the army and doesn't want a job. He wants to drink and lay around in a motel with his girlfriend. David Morse, his brother, is frustrated but knows that if a man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good so he tries to help but there's no helping some people.)

A great song is cinematic, I say.
What? She asks.
A great song is cinematic, I repeat.

She says something
I half hear.

I say,
I love you baby.

And I do
And I always will

No matter what goes down.

She gives me
A pain killer
She lifted
Off the man
She lives with.

I fall asleep
And let her finish the movie solo.

I know how it ends.

I've heard the song a hundred times.

When Rainbows Were Rainbows

You can have the modern world.
I'll take the seventies.

When rainbows were rainbows
I traded love for something else.

Better music.
Blood on the Tracks
Dreaming My Dreams
Better football games on television.


You can have the modern world
I'll take

Vietnam
Nixon

Bell bottoms
Colombian Gold

Land lines
Pong

My grandmother's house
Wisconsin.

Noir Epilogue

I came to in a cornfield at dawn - my chest was burning - crawled to a road

Why didn't she put two in my head?

I came to
In a cornfield
In shock
With a burning chest
Wondering why
She didn't put two in my head.

Noir X

I showed the bank clerk the poor bastard's driver's license and emptied his safe deposit box. She told me not to worry, you look just like him. You could almost be twins. Nonetheless I was scared shit-less and a little pissed.

I took fifty-thousand for my trouble, I said, when I handed her the contents of the box. That's fair, she said, and smiled. Thank you. I told you it would work.

We picked the girl up at a bar and drove off into the sunset. I have to pee, she said, and pulled over beside a cornfield. Come with me, she said, and winked. It's dark in there.

We both took a piss. I heard something behind me. I turned around the girl was in front of me. Oh shit, I thought. What did you expect? She said. How much was in the box? I asked. But it was already too late for questions.

Noir IX

Get his wallet, she said. I did. She untied the girl. About time, the girl said. You look familiar, I said. Shut up, the girl said.

She cleaned the place up a bit. That should do, she said. Let's get out of here. Where's the gun? She asked. I threw it in the lake, I said. I guess that's as good a place for it as there is.

What are we going to do with him? I asked. Leave the prick where he is, she said. He said he wasn't married, I said. He wasn't, she said. I thought he was your husband, I said. Well he wasn't, she said. Then who was he? I asked. My brother. You're an idiot, the girl said. I couldn't honestly disagree.

We drove to a motel and the girl got out and went into a room. Who is she? I asked. My high school sweetheart, she said. Why did you lie about being married? I asked. What difference does it make?

The girl came back, threw a bag in the trunk and we drove to Milwaukee.

Noir VIII

If I had it to do over I wouldn't have picked up The Maltese Falcon and thrown it and maybe that would not have set in motion everything that happened after.

She was sitting at the bar in a blond wig wearing sunglasses and a cowboy hat drinking a tequila sunrise. Who are you hiding from? I asked. Everyone.

I told her what happened. Is he dead? She asked. I shot him twice. I said. That's not what I asked, she said. He's dead, I said. What about the girl? She asked. I tied her up, I said. She's going to be pissed.

We have to go back and get something, she said. Are you crazy? I asked. That depends.

On what? I asked. She smiled. Finish your drink, she said. We have a lot to do.

Noir VII

I made hamburgers and we each killed a bottle. We went to bed early and screwed like rabbits for a couple hours.

This is one of the best days of my life, I said. I enjoyed it too. I'm picking up my money in the morning and going to Arizona. Do you want to come along? She asked. Why not? I said.

I woke up with a well-deserved headache. A man was sitting in a chair with a shotgun across his lap. Did you sleep good? He asked. Who are you? I asked. He laughed. Who am I? Who the fuck are you?

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. I asked you a question.

I think I'm kind of your wife's boyfriend, I said. I'm not married asshole. Baby! he yelled. A girl walked into the room. Tie this dickhead up and call the cops.

Noir VI

Do you know how to use it? She asked. I wish I didn't, I said, and placed it on the table. But you do?

Yeah, I said. Let's go to bed. I want you inside me, she said.

She put ice and the beer in a cooler and I carried it into an old fashioned bedroom. Quaint, I said. Tacky. This place reminds me of my husband.

When I woke up she was gone. I finished The Maltese Falcon. She returned with more beer and bottles of tequila, gin and whiskey. My kind of girl, I said, and smiled.

We killed the afternoon on the pier drinking and shooting empty beer cans we threw in the lake.

Noir V

I fixed the window with a piece of plywood I found in a shed.

Who owns the cottage? I asked. My husband's parents. I have to go get some supplies, she said, and left.

At least I got a straight answer, I thought, and found The Maltese Falcon on a bookshelf.

She threw a beer at me. Take a shower. You stink, she said, and picked up the book. Is this any good? She asked.

She pulled open the curtain. Mind if I join you? She asked, stripped, and stepped into the tiny tub. Cozy, she said, and washed my back. Where are we? I asked. Just outside the town I grew up in.

What are we doing here? I asked. Someone owes me some money, she said. How long will this take? I asked. Not long, I hope.

I have a present for you, she said, and tossed me a .357 Magnum. What's this for? I asked. My husband and his whore might show up any minute.

Thanks. I guess.

Noir IV

We drove all day. I slept most of the way. When the sun set we stopped at a greasy spoon.

Where are we going? I asked. You'll know when we get there, she said. That's not an answer.

We came to a small lake and she pulled into the driveway of a cottage. We walked to the lake. She took off her dress and dove off the pier. Are you coming in? She asked. It's too cold, I said. It's refreshing.

Will you go inside and get me a towel? She asked. The door was locked. The door's locked, I yelled. Break a window.

Lightning preceded thunder. Hurry up I'm freezing, she yelled. I walked back to the pier. I'm not breaking the window, I said. It started raining. She got out of the water. I'll do it myself, she said, and picked up a rock.

Noir III

I looked north and walked south. A red Mustang flipped a bitch and stopped. Where are you going, she asked? Home I guess, I said. Get in.

Do you like Lover Boy, she asked, turned up the radio and did a U turn. I'm going the other way, I said. Don't be a pussy.

Where are we going? I asked. She smiled. It's a surprise, she said. Take the wheel, she said, and changed her dress while I steered.

She grabbed a bottle out of her purse and handed me a pill. Take this, she said. What is it? I asked. It will make you feel better. You look like shit.

Noir II

I pulled some cash out of my sock, paid my tab, retraced my steps and found her standing under a street lamp smoking a cigarette. Where did you go? She asked. What did you do to me? I said.

If you're going to be paranoid this relationship will never work, she said. According to the bartender you don't exist, I said. She laughed. She's a jealous bitch. Let's go to my room I have something I want to show you.

She led. I followed. Look at this, she said.

I woke up on the floor beside an empty bottle of tequila, half a pack of cigarettes and a brick. I rubbed my burning head, lit a smoke and yelled, where are you? She didn't answer. I walked outside.

The sun was in the process of coming up over a mountain that suddenly appeared on the horizon. I walked to the street and tried to remember which direction I came from.

Noir

While we drank in a tavern her unsavory past reflected off my eyes and back to her's and it scared me a little but it also excited me and I couldn't wait to walk across the street to her motel room.

What are you doing here, Mac, she asked. My name isn't Mac, it's Eric, I said. Whatever, she said, and drained her glass of tequila and tapped her empty glass on the bar.

While we walked to the motel she pointed at the sky and said look the stars are laughing at you. So it seems, I said, and flicked my spent cigarette into a ditch. Why do you think I picked you out of that mess at the bar? She asked.

I woke up in that ditch beside my cigarette butt, a used condom, and an empty bottle of wine with her laughter ringing in my ear.

I walked back to the bar and asked the bartender about the girl I was sitting with. You weren't sitting with anyone. And you owe me twenty-three dollars, she said.

Quitting

The blue light
Burns
In your eye.

You take a drag off
My cigarette.

I laugh.
It isn’t funny.
You say.

Yeah it is.

Psychodelic Reflections

I wrote a song
For
A
Girl
I met in a used book store.
I
Played
It
For
Her
Under a tree beside a lake
On
The
Fourth
Of
July
While fireworks exploded
Over
Our
Heads.

Outside Houston's Listening To George Harrison

A beautiful woman
Two men
And another woman

Walked by me
While I smoked
Beside my cab.

I lost her
When she walked
Into a tunnel.

Even though
I never had her

And didn't really
Want her.

I felt sad.

Correlations

When talking or writing about politics it helps to contradict yourself fairly often.
It makes you more believable, and your position a hell of a lot more interesting.
Sticking to the party line will turn you into a hack and render your opinions next to worthless.
For instance, if minimum wage should be increased does that mean every fourteen-year-old girl should be able to get an abortion without her parents' knowledge?
If a balanced budget is a good idea, does everyone have to have the right to have a machine gun in a safe in their study?

It Ain't Fair

Sometimes you wait forever
For something to happen
And it doesn't.

Sometimes you walk down the street
Trip over your feet
Break your ankle
And spend the night in jail.

My father used to tell me
That life isn't fair
Whenever I said
That isn't fair.

I never understood why
Things aren't fair
And I still don't.

Time In And Of Itself

Time
Is nothing left.

Lost.
Treeless forest.

Prehistoric

River
On the left.

Decent landmark.

But
Worthless.

Looking
For something

That doesn't exist.
Used to.
Might someday
Again.

Raining.
Red.
Can't see shit anyway.

If you don't know where you're going any road will take you there.

Or so they say.

Wilderness

A tree alone next

To a river rolls into

A canyon of fools.

Fractions

I sit and watch you

Add and subtract numbers that

Mean nothing to me.

If We Met In A Bar In Fargo

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would fall
for you.
Your melancholy
eyes
would draw me
into your story.
I wouldn’t tell you
mine.
I would let you
write
that
one
too.

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would buy
you as much
beer as you could
drink.
I would steal
a truck
and take you
wherever it was
you were
happiest.
Once
I
was
happy
too.

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would play
Pasty Cline
on the jukebox
Strange or
Sweet Dreams
Folsom Prison
Blues
something
to dance to
I hate dancing
but I would
dance
with
you.

If we met
in a bar
in Fargo
I would
sit at the bar
act cool
drink whiskey
on the rocks
smoke Winston
after Winston
wonder what
to do
with someone
famous and
pretty
as
you.

High School Blues

crying trees
stolen light

under a bridge

pissing on a hot rock
smoking a cigarette

thinking about
what she said

makes me sad
what the heck

one more
of everything

might
do the trick

Cold Day In Hell

None to accompany me - On this last journey - Against the wind - Across the frozen desert - Home - To begin - Again.

In My Time (Essays About Rock And Roll)

If you were introduced to Hank Williams, Jr. by Monday Night Football you rightly probably think he's a yahoo, however, between 1978 and 1985 he might have been the best country singer in the world (apologies to Don Williams). If you don't want to take my word for it go out and buy his re-mastered compact disks for the bargain price of five dollars, ninety-seven cents.

Back in the day, John Mellencamp changed his last name to Cougar for financial reasons. I think changing your name is stupid and don't think that you can change it back and retain creditability especially when your chosen name is Cougar. Anyway, when I was a young man, I thought John Cougar was pretty cool and a fine songwriter and singer. I saw him open for Heart at the old Phoenix Coliseum and he put on a hell of a show and blew those talentless bimbo's off the stage, however, as I got older and heard more music I found Cougar's to be somewhat pedestrian although his good songs were always worth a listen. A couple days ago I asked my brother to burn John Cougar's latest album and it's (authentic) the best thing I've heard in awhile and I listen to it all all the time.

If you are at the end of the line and down to your last three hours play Dreaming My Dreams, do three or four bongs, a line of coke, have a glass of your favorite spirit and smoke as many cigarettes as you can.

Some Of This Is True

My father
Freezes music

On the side of a
Mountain
In Phoenix.

A hawk flies
Through a purple sky.

I catch songs
In an opium den.

My sister is a waitress
In a French restaurant.

My brother teaches Indians
So does his wife
And my mother

On the Navajo
Reservation.

We’re all drunks
Except Anita.

Kimosabe

You have to watch
Your speed on the reservation
Reservation cops will pull you for anything

No street lamps
Bars
Night life

Can't see the crap
I like that

As many dogs as people

I think Indians are on to something

Sometimes I hate the reservation
Can't find anyone
Can't see beyond the headlights

But when the radio is coming in good
At 2 AM

It might be the best place in the world

For me
At least

A pretty good facsimile

Giant Ball

Love is expensive
You told me
The night we met
I’m never getting married.

Love is cheap
But it ain't free
In a dirty motel room
You look better
Than anything I’ve
Ever seen.

Love is beautiful
My daughter laughs
Throws a stick in the
Air and yells look
Daddy.

Love is overrated
You state flatly
In a dive in Bakersfield
I’m half in the bag.

Love is everything
Rolled up
Into a giant ball
Unfortunately.

Love is war
Some say
I don’t disagree
Necessarily.

Point Of Reference

I thought
If I could
Find
The little dipper
I could
Locate
The north star

While I sat
Under a palm tree
Drinking a beer

Waiting for you
To give me a ride
Anywhere
But here.

Bailing

It's been raining
All week

Time is running out
On a long hard night

If I don't make a certain amount of money soon

I won't be able to play golf
On my day off

I believe
A lot of people
Are in the same boat

With a hole in it

And that further
Complicates things

Lucky

The last time I saw you
I said,
“See you around if you’re lucky.”
You laughed,
“If you’re lucky,”
You said.

I am at cards
I won a hundred and fifty dollars
The first time I played poker.
Then again

I'm as alone tonight
As I was last night
And probably will be tomorrow.

Richard Jackson

Richard Jackson’s poems are about
War
Literature
Getting sick,
And his best one was very funny.
The poem he wrote
For his sick friend
Sounded almost like a love poem
And that made it more interesting.
The poems Jackson read
Made him seem intelligent.
No one wants to hear
A dummy read anything
Much less his own manuscript.
You never know
What you’re going to get
And it is always refreshing
To be surprised
And Jackson's poems
Go in a direction
Shift
Come back
And dart away again.
And that's
No mean feat,
To say the least.
Every one of the selections
He read were worth hearing,
And that’s hard
To pull off as well.
Poetry can be boring.
Jackson is an artist.
Most poets aren’t.
ASU was lucky to have him.
I would have
Bought his book
If I had 10 dollars,
So be it,
Not good
For either of us.
Free food and drink
Is a nice touch.
I should probably
Start paying attention
To the good things
This place has to offer.
Before
It’s too late.

Dilly Dally Blues

Shoot out that spotlight
Before I go blind.
Kris Kristofferson
Wrote that line
About forty years ago
Or something just like it
On Spooky Lady Sideshow
A great underrated album.
Anyway do it
Before I go insane
And get the bar
A round on me
I'm flush for a change.

I'm pretty sure you're not coming.
I'm half drunk.
Hank Williams Jr. is singing.
All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)
Makes me sad.
And I'm pretty certain
You are long gone
Somewhere
Over the Rainbow
Splitting someone else's
Heart in half
Because you can't stand being alone.

Under The Big Black Sun

Underrated
Seediness
Hanging around
My home town

Dive bars
Street corners
Cheap motels
Piss stalls at the bus station

Average house
Typical street
Circle K
Parking lot

Brother
Can you spare a dime

I can
I don't

Watch it unfold
Like a Rolling Stone

Story

I read on a plane
On the way home
From somewhere
I never wanted to go

Wherever that is
It might not exist
If it once did
I forget

Something
Over the horizon

Like a painting
Hanging

In a Fort Worth
Museum

Nothing lasts forever

Hangovers burn
Hearts shatter
Luck runs out
Dogs die
Dreams as well

Song For Cate

She crawls
She walks
She cries
She talks
She pulls
She grabs
She fails
She tries
She bites
She kisses
She lies
She begs forgiveness

She's the Hoover Dam
She's the Amazon

She's that rainbow
You
Are
Standing
On

She's a sawed off shotgun
In
A
Pinch
She'll wear you down

She's a little fish
You
Will
Never
Catch

She's a Jackson Pollock painting
She's my favorite song

She's a mouse
She's a cat
She's a goose
She's a swan

She's an old gray barn
In
A
Midwestern
Town

Fading
Gracefully

Fifty
Years
Ago

One
Hundred
Years
From
Now

Nothing

I have nothing
Have
Nothing
I have nothing
So be it
Be
It
So be it

Drinking Whiskey

My father said
(While we sat in a bar
Drinking whiskey
And smoking cigarettes
Back in the good old days
When you could smoke in a bar)

That the art of creativity
Is a mystery to all.
Many men have tried
In vain to reveal
To us the process.
The closest accomplishment
I have found is
The Art Spirit
Written in 1923
By the American painter
Robert Henri.

Did you you see the Packer game yesterday?
I asked.

For What It's Worth

My English teacher at ASU
Was addicted to television.
She made us write poetry
About our dark side.
(Mine was coal black
As the darkest night
In the deepest woods.)

She had us use words like
Fibrillate and palpable.

I didn't always agree with her
But she brought out the best in me.

Sometimes we smoked
Together during break.

She wasn't that interesting
Or good looking

But I read one of her poems
And it was quite good.

I fell in love with two girls in her class
And they thought I was a pretty good writer

But they wouldn't go out with me
Or maybe I never asked them.

I haven't seen my teacher
Since the last day of the semester

But I think about her sometimes

And when I do
I am grateful
To her for not wasting
Too many of those required
Friday afternoons
When I could have
Been playing golf
With my friends.

Back Stage Pass

My drummer was sitting in the corner, nursing his second bottle of whiskey, and mourning the loss of his left eye in an ill-advised bar fight. My bass player was dead, or asleep, I couldn't tell. I was sitting next to a girl who said she was twenty, but she could have been twelve. My wife was in Milwaukee raising two kids she claims are mine, I wouldn't know, and to tell the truth don't much care although sometimes I wish I did. I'm hungry, she said, and yawned. There's food over there somewhere, I said. You're not as interesting as I thought you would be. Life's a bitch. It's not that bad. Do you want a blow job? I thought I wasn't interesting. I guess you're interesting enough. See if you can raise him from the dead. She tried. He didn't even twitch. Maybe he is dead, I said, and threw a full can of Budweiser at his head. Fuck, he said, and rolled over. At least he isn't dead, she said. He's a fine bass player but he can't drink worth a shit. He's kind of cute. Come here, I said and she did. I put my arm around her and said let me tell you a story about the night I wrote a song with Dylan but I couldn't remember the good parts. I should just go home. You're probably right, I said, and away she reluctantly went.

Talkin' Grave Digger Blues

After a hard day
Digging graves
For the Army

My old friend Jim Crow

Was sitting in his garage

And he had an idea

To set the world on fire
With a song

He wrote for his ex-wife
A thousand years ago.

So He played the song
A hundred times

Didn't get a spark
Smashed his guitar
Against the wall,

Killed a bottle of Jim Beam
And flung it out

The window,

Lit a cigarette,

Fell asleep

And at least burned
His house down.

My old friend woke up,
Walked outside

Looked up
At the pretty star filled sky
Threw up

And said to himself,
I'll be damned

It almost worked.

Phoenix

A skinny toothless woman walked up and grinned. You're not him, she said. A half woman-half pig said, can I smoke back here? A middle aged man asked, how's business? It sucks, I said. An ex-solider said, can you wait? He gave me twenty dollars and walked into a crack house. The valet said, do you have an extra cigarette? My friend Mike said, I've been thinking about this a lot and there are only ten people in the world that I really like. A fat old lady asked, do you know where I live?

Another One Of These

Last night
Rain fell horizontally
A tree fell
In the backyard
A dog barked
The power
Went out
(I never know
What to do
When the power
Goes out)
So I thought
About you
Leaving
Last fall
A couple days
Before it got cold
I came home
To an empty house
And an odd
Sad note

Ode to Stallone

i was reading
the bell jar
in the hall
of bravo company's
barracks
guarding
the floor
i was the first
one some sergeant
found after someone
failed to show up
for duty

i sat there
for hours
finished the book
looked out
a window
and prayed
for rain
in the morning

eventually
i was relieved
so i walked
into the woods
smoked a joint
and saw rambo
at the jam-packed
post theater

(every time rambo
killed somebody
the theater exploded
like our high school
football team
scored a touchdown
in the state championship game)

it’s surreal now
looking back

first blood at
fort benning

Scat

Last night
Too tired to read

Stare out window

Crosswalk sign
Truck I can't see around
Tunnel under a road
Bottom third of a green glass building
Sculpture of a ram on a mountain top
Streetlamp
Tree
Some bushes
People passing by

Listen to talk show host Mike Savage
Scat about Jack Kerouac's
Reaction to the ground zero mosque

Savage's assumptions
Might be correct
And they might not be
Probably
Somewhere in between

Anyway who cares
What someone
Thinks about
Something
He couldn't possibly
Know anything about

Besides Kerouac
Doesn't need
A talk show host
Putting words
In his mouth

Don't want to listen to
Jack Kerouac
Become a stooge
For a political agenda

Change station
Journey singing
Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'

Change back
Kerouac in any forum
Is better then
Bad rock music

Let it roll
Over me

Close my eyes

Waiting
Can wear you out

Grasping At Straws

I wish

I could write

Eloquently

About sunsets
Over mountains

And trees
And flowers.

I always
Have to throw

A drug addict

Into any setting
I create.

Or a guy
Stalking a girl,

Or shooting
A cow,

Or setting fire
To his house.

Sometimes
I wish

I could
Write like a girl.

I need depth.

I'm Pretty Vacant

Like the old
Sex Pistols song.

Turf War

I tried to walk around a homeless man
In the parking lot of the used bookstore
On Thirty-Sixth Street and Indian School Road last night

What are you doing here
He asked

I bought a book
I said

What book you buy

Many Are The Hearts

Who wrote it

I looked at the cover
Richard Goldhurst

Who that

I don't know

What's it about

I haven't read it yet

Everyone who buys a book reads the flap

I read from the cover
It's about the agony and the triumph of Ulysses S. Grant

Imagine that
Do you have any cigarettes

I gave him one

He pulled a book of matches out of his pocket
Kid at 7-11 gives me these
A man needs to start a fire sometimes
Like now
He lit his cigarette
This is my turf

You can have it back
I'm going home

To read that book

What difference does it make

All the difference in the world man

I turned my back to him
And walked away

Hey man
he yelled

I turned around

Greed is the goose that laid the golden egg
Remember that
And don't come back
I never forget a face

Ode To A Poet

Instantly
After
Truman
Capote
Sucked
My
Dick
I
Sighed
Cried
Said
My
God
Right
On
I
Can
Finally
Write
Like
A
Fag

Dream Job

I plucked the moon
From the sky
Like an orange
From a tree,
Took a bite
And tossed it away.

Or maybe it was a basketball
Rolling down
The street.
I scooped it up
Dribbled behind my back
And between my legs.

Or maybe I was just sitting
In my cab
In a deserted
Parking lot
Reading
The Thin Red Line,

When she walked up
And asked if I was busy.

I don't want to go home, she said.
Where do you want to go? I asked.
She sighed, I don't know, she said.
Well I have to take you somewhere.
Just drive around in circles.
So I did.
For a couple of hours at least.

The Water Inside The Water Is Cold

An angry red curtain
vibrated
back and forth.

“What's wrong with you?”
She asked and tossed an empty
can of beer into a plastic garbage can.

The curtain
scared me.
“Get me a beer.” I said.

“Get it yourself and while you’re up grab me one. ”
I did just that.
What else was I supposed to do?

“Did you get the mail?”
I did not.
“There was none.” I said.

It was snowing
and the wind was blowing
hard.

I didn’t want to go outside.
“It’s pretty cold
out there." I said.

“Do you think the car will start?”
“I doubt it.”
“Go and warm it up.”

“I said it wouldn’t start.”
“So it probably will.”
She smiled.

“In a minute.”
“I don’t have all day.”
But she did.

“The roads will be pretty bad.”
I said.
“You’re such a little girl.”

“What’s wrong with the curtain?”
I asked.
“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I’ll tend to the car,
where are the keys?”
“You had them last.” She said.

Fresh

I'm taking a chance
Coming here tonight was not my idea
And frankly I'm concerned
That no good will come of this endeavor

I have an extremely early class
My dorm is a mess
I smell something
What is that

Somebody should call an ambulance
I'm leaving
I have cab fare
But I was hoping you would be a gentleman

My mother told me
A smart girl always has cab fare
Because boys are unreliable
And most men are creepier than they look

Digging A Hole In The Cold Hard Ground

Tom and I were chain smoking dope and drinking whiskey and writing a song about a broken radio and John Prine and I guess we were in it too somewhere. Tom's wife Kim walked into the room and told us to keep it down. I'm trying to talk to my mother on the phone and by the way you guys sound like shit, just like you always do, she said. She ain't wrong, I said. But she's a bitch, Tom added. Kim came back. I heard that, she said and took the joint out of Tom's hand. We're one line away from a classic, Tom said and he wasn't wrong, and we still are twenty-five years down the line.

Grind

Nothing
Screams

I hate
My life

Like an overflowing
Sink of dirty dishes

While you're trying to
Smoke a little dope

On a otherwise uneventful
Tuesday afternoon.

It's a minor tragedy. An avoidable calamity.
A Goddamn disaster.

By the time you notice
You are way past screwed.

So you
wait.

And it gets
Worse.

And then it's too
Late.

And you still have to do
Them.

A Short Quick One (for my mother-in-law) About Your Daughter

If this particular night went on forever
That would be
Fine with me.

I could sit at this great big round table
And
Drink and
Smoke
And Talk
To you

About your family, your cat, your job, your girlfriends and your secret drawer.

(Don't ever mention it again. I repeat: don't ever mention that damn drawer again.)

You make it all sound so
Seamlessly
Interesting.

That is hard to do.

When you smile
I feel like I've
Accomplished something.

When you touch
My hand
I think
I can do
Anything

And I
Have
Been around
Long enough
To know
That ain't true.

And if this
Is all
A dream
I guess
That's alright
Too.

Division 1

I started two years NC two A and I was pretty good. I was efficient, never got burned - that was my thing. I Picked off a couple passes here and there but I wasn't great and I played on a pretty bad team. I was a good enough athlete to get by without having to live breathe and die football football football. I knew I didn't have the genes for the NFL. Yeah, I would have liked to play pro and yeah, I know there's always some little slow white fuck that never makes a mistake and you can bet your paycheck that guy's livin' and dyin' football and that ain't me, but I ain't stupid, and I know my limits - that's one of the reasons I was as good as I was. But what I really wanted anyway was the twat in the tight red shorts and the little top that showed off her tits and football helped me get her (and her sister and her even hotter best friend and it's still paying off). You can't buy that kind of confidence or steal it or sell shit-loads of dope to get it. I've never had much money but I always have a girl on my arm and I've never done time. A real man doesn't need much money or a gun. What a real man needs is women, lots of them, or at least one good one.

A Far Cry

I'm a far cry from dead
Like old Townes said
But he's long gone gone
And I'm down for the count
Tonight.
I need someone to tell me
It will be alright
Even if it's a lie.
I would sure appreciate it.
The truth
Usually sucks
Anyway you cut it
Slice it
Or spit it out like chaw.
Fuck it
Let's have a drink.
I think I see a bar.
As I said
I'm a far cry from dead
And I need something to look forward to.
So shoot out that street light kid
And start walking
Down the boulevard
Of twisted dreams.
I'm in the mood for company.

Cracked

Rain falls lightly while
Through a cracked window
I watch her brush her horse.
She's wearing
A red cotton peasant dress and
With her long hair
Hanging down
She looks like a Goddess.
My daughter thinks
She's a princess
But she's just a cute girl
I met in a bar two weeks ago.
She has quite a temper,
She's smarter than I am
And makes more money than I do,
Managing rich people's money.
I knock on the window and wave.
She smiles and waves back.
I read her lips
Through the broken glass.
Get in here, she says.

Forgive Me

I have always been a bastard - that doesn't mean I'm not sorry - for things I did or didn't do to you - tonight - when you just wanted to have a few drinks and after a little fun - with a pretty good looking guy - so I am a little sorry now - looking down - on you laying on your bed - bleeding a little from places you wouldn't have let me see - had you known - what I do and don't do sometimes too - you look beautiful - that makes me think - maybe I should have done the hard work - I have always been reluctant to do - It's too easy to be a bastard - I conclude - as I put a blanket over you - lock your door - and walk to my car - things could have been different - if you hadn't looked so cute - shooting pool with your fat friend - I might not have noticed you - or wanted to do things - no one should want to do - but - that doesn't matter now - as the dark night - turns gray - I forgive you - and everyone else too.

Mountain Pass

About a month before I joined the Army my brother and I stood on a mountain pass and watched a storm approach. My brother rolled a joint, lit it off the end of his cigarette and handed it to me. I asked him about the Army. He said it isn't so bad. It's a lazy man's job really, he added. That sounded pretty good to me. I gave him the joint and looked up at the clouds zipping across the dark sky. It's going to snow, I said, sat on a rock, gazed down at an empty road and wondered how many cars would pass before someone gave us a ride.

Never Could

The light
Fades.

The curtain
Drops.

The half moon
Hangs

North of Camelback Mountain.

So it seems

I can not compete
With the man

I could have been.

Black Hills

If I could turn pain
Into music.

You would follow a bird
Over a river

Across the Great Plains
And fall into my arms.

Propaganda

An old man stood on the corner
Of Twenty-Fourth Street
And Indian School Road
Holding a sign that read:

What shall
A man receive
In exchange
For his soul?

I rolled down my window
As I drove by
And yelled
There's no such thing.

Merry Christmas

The last thing I needed
Was you leaving me
On the side of a dirt road
In the middle of nowhere
While I took a piss
On Christmas Eve.
However it's up to me
To make chicken salad
Out of chicken shit.
So I picked up the duffel bag
You tossed out of the trunk
And started walking west.

The swirling sky played
Help Me Make It Through The Night.

When the rain hit
I found a shed and sat down
On my bag and wrote this
On a napkin
I found in my pocket.

Friday Night/Saturday Morning

The bartender yelled, last call.
We ordered two more and you did a shot.
I think shots make idiots of us all, I said.
You frowned and smiled and punched me on the arm.
I acted like it hurt but it didn't.
The bartender said, you guys are a cute couple.
You smiled. What do you do for a living? You asked.
As little as possible. How about you?
I'm a facebook whore, you said.
I would think you would sugar - coat it, I said.
You laughed, like I'm a facebook escort?
Are you? I asked while the bartender washed our glasses.
Hank Williams Jr. sang Family Tradition on the jukebox.
Are you interested? You asked, took a sip and winked.
Good thing it's payday, I replied.
How much do you have?
Probably not enough.
You laughed, I'll take what I can get.

Horizontal Rain

The storm flew
Over our house.

It was scary
But now it's long gone

Somewhere else
I guess

And I am aware
That I haven't told you

How much I need you
Right now

Tomorrow
And yesterday too.

Big Scotty

My old drug dealer Scotty weighed four hundred pounds and had the meanest dog in the world. The dog hated my guts and growled and snapped at me when Scotty wasn't looking.

Scotty was always late and told stupid jokes and funny stories. He had a daughter in high school so he couldn't meet at his house so I would meet him at his office.

Sometimes I would wait for days that seemed like minutes listening to Ol' Waylon.

The sun would drop or rise I forget more and more as the days pass by like a train from somewhere I've never been.

Scotty flipped an ATV and a quack put him in a coma.

I waited and hoped that he would wake up.

He never did and I’m never going to get over it.

I loved that guy for all the wrong reasons.

He was my friend.

Twenty-Eighth Street

I Stare at window
Twenty-eighth street

Big tree
Power line pole
Cars
Person walks by
Once in a while

Kate and Anna McGarrigle
Sing the saddest song
I've ever heard

Light a cigarette
Take a drink of something
I don't need

Wonder if you are

Wondering about me

Frozen River

I watched
The river

Freeze over
And thaw

I laid
On her bed

And read
Her old essays and poems

I taught
Her son

How to throw
A curve ball

I play
Her piano

And look out
The window

It's white
Out there now

But soon it will
Be gold

And it couldn't
Have ended

On a
Finer note

Pearl Harbor Day

Ice hanging
From Oaks

I almost ran over a dog

In ditch
Listening to radio
Outside dive

Under street lamp

Seven
December
Eighty-five

Or
So

I thought
At the time

One Act Poem

We were sitting beside a wide deep hole drinking beer while the sun slipped behind Daisy Mountain.
What's the hole for? I asked.
I don't know but it ate my dog, Jack said.
Your dog fell in the hole?
No, she was too smart to fall in.
Something in the hole ate her?
Yeah you could say that. I think it's prehistoric.
Why's that?
Just a hunch. I found some bones about a hundred yards north of here.
What kind of bones?
I'm not sure.
So why do you think something prehistoric lives down there?
I've seen shit that would blow your mind.
Like what?
The fucker kidnapped my ex while we were eating mushrooms about a year ago. It was like King Kong or Beauty and the Beast.
No shit.
No shit.
Did you call the cops?
I hate cops.
I would think they would want to know what happened to her.
They do. Her fucking mother told me she won't rest until I'm in jail for the rest of my life. I told her what happened but the cunt doesn't believe a word I say. She never trusted me.
I gotta hit the road. My wife thinks I'm at work.
Jack laughed, thanks for the beer. Hey man don't tell anyone what I just told you.

Between Somewhere And Home

When I was a dumb-ass teenager (between '75 and '02) the only things I did well were skipping school, (rarely) drinking or smoking enough to lose my cool, (in fact I was trying so hard to be cool my soul caught a cold that took twenty years to defrost) and getting from one spot to another on my own. I walked a lot of dirt roads and stood for days on the sides of highways with my thumb out. My father gave me The Silver Tongued Devil for my tenth birthday and I memorized about half the songs and made up a few too and sang them when the weather turned and I felt almost completely alone between somewhere and home.

Cab 304

He gets in my cab and says, coins don’t last when they are tied up on purpose. I'm still active duty military. CIA.

So am I, I say.

We should exchange business cards. Defects on man mad dogs. What's your cab number?

304.

Can I get a receipt?

If I have one.

I look in the glove box, find a receipt and hand it to him.

What's this for?

Sitting Around Waiting For Something

Empty
Plastic
Bottle
Of Doctor Pepper
Laying beside the curb

Hank Williams
Or George Strait singing
A Hank Williams song
On the radio

First in line
Next to the Cheesecake Factory
7:55

Like the night before

Fat blond
Walks by
Talking on a cell phone
Gets in a SUV
Drives off

My father used to say
Only boring people
Get bored

I'm pretty bored
Tonight

Waiting for something
I don't want to do

Bright Red Light And Burning Coal

Bright red light
Blowing

Burning coal
Floating

Out of town
Speed of sound

Watch it unfold
Take notes

For a class on
Street smarts

I'm failing
For the fourth time.

Slow Burn

Dead Tree
Wind blowing

Snow falling
I don’t care

Sit in a bar
Talk to the bartender about baseball

Have another
One after another

Girls walk by
I smile and

Drive my cab
Into Lake Michigan

Tom And Me And Brown Deer Once In Awhile

The Philistines use Martin strings
Yes they do yes they do yes they do

The Philistines are Jim Crow and old Hound Dog
Don’t you know don’t you know don’t you know

The Philistines know everything
Yes they do yes they do yes they do

The Philistines are rock and roll serial killers
Bongo drum solo

The Philistines love the Blasters X and Husker Du
The great Tompall the great Tompall the great Tompall

A Little Wisdom

You can be the hammer
Or you can be the nail

Get right with Jesus tonight
Down at the saloon

My Baby And Me

I make my baby sad
If she were a bird
She’d fly away
She ain't a bird
So she stays

I make my baby tired
She’s always picking up after me
She says I don’t try
I don’t disagree
But I could

I make my baby mad
If she were a lion
She’d bite off my head
She ain't a cat
I’ll drink to that

Anti - War Rally

On the sidewalk
In front of the
Biltmore Fashion Square mall

Angry citizens hold
Mundane
Redundant signs and glare.

I honk twice and
Salute.

I Hate Trains

The water is rising
The sun don’t shine

Since you left baby
The sun don’t shine

Your dog’s been howling
Like she got shot

Since you left baby
Your dog’s been howling all night

The rain won’t stop falling
A train whistle blows every night

Since you left baby
A train whistle blows and the rain won’t stop

A Very Short Essay About Art

My brother told me once that all art is flawed. My brother’s a smart guy and he’s probably right. So why write one poem, much less a book, or devote your life to creating something that will be inherently flawed?

Why do anything that isn't practical?

Money comes and goes, just like people and love and dope. A great poem stands alone forever in books all over this mean old world to be read and criticized long after the poor bastard that wrote it is dead. Most poems are bad but that’s not the point, we need those too. Without them how would we know what is good? Art is about the process. It's taking the chance that you’re wrong, and sometimes being right against incredible odds.

Night Scene

A street lamp

Illuminates
A tree

Outside my window
I watch

The night
Slide by

Like a
Sad
Old movie

Love Sick

My will has gone

North to die
Like a dog

Alone

You can only lose
So long

Fare thee well

1995

I drank the boat dry

My birthday
1995

Played
Little Red Corvette

I love this song
She said

It’s a great one

She smiled

I laughed and
Put the guitar down

Drank the boat dry
As I said

Stumbled home and
Fell into bed

Somewhat satisfied

100 yards

I wonder
If I can get a sand wedge
Back there?

I think you can,
Brown Deer says.

Nice shot,
Billy says.

I pick my cigarette
Off the grass
Take a hit and grin.

Time

Last night
Rain

Fell
Softly

While I
Wondered

Where you went

Gallup

wind
howling like a coyote

prowling across a forlorn
landscape

my truck
won’t
start

you ain't home

Undivided Attention

While the crew rests - you sit on a rock - watch the fire - grow - you wonder - how you and your pals will put it out - at least get her under control - fires are unpredictable - that doesn't mean there's no pattern - tragic things happen - all over the world - right now - somewhere else - yesterday - tomorrow - next year - a hundred years ago - that's a lot to consider - the glow from houses in the valley blends with the night sky light - it's so dark - you can't see twenty yards forward or back but you see the fire - smell it - feel it - the glow from the valley reminds you why you are here tonight - Harvey wakes up - walks to the drop zone - gets a sweater out of his backpack - takes a piss - asks - what you see out there boss - a fire that's too active for this time of night - you say - I noticed that too - Harvey says - walks back to his sleeping bag - gets in - your ex wife hates that you love to jump out of airplanes and fight fires in the Rocky Mountains - she moved to Chicago - you were in New Mexico - you miss her sometimes - not now - the fire has your undivided attention - if you knew that you would be dead tomorrow - would you pull your crew off the mountain - watch the Rockies in a bar - or would you push on - side-stepping premonition?

After The Bar Closed We Sat At A Table Drinking Rum And Coke

I long
For a precise image
Of you
To exploit

A prelude to a night cap
My best friend
Used to say
Before she went to Florida

The First Hole

I have a picture hanging over my Davenport of Greg Norman making a double bogey on the first hole at Royal St. George's en route to his second Open victory in 1993.

The British Open is the best golf tournament in the world.

It's a hell of an image and evidence that you can make a mess of the beginning of an important endeavor and still accomplish something remarkable if you stick to your plan and attack life with the moxie of a champion.

Talking

You love it
I don’t love anything
You love me
Except you

That’s a start
Maybe
Do you have a cigarette
Yeah

Thanks
Don’t mention it

See You Around

under a paper thin moon
you walked away
like a little girl

the night before
in a little white box house
you sat next to a fire and said

that’s funny
and i guess that it was
a long time ago i loved you

you smiled and shrugged
put your cigarette out
and asked for a refill

i loved you too
i said and filled your empty glass
you laughed and said thanks

you always did have
a unique sense of humor
a wooden leg and the best ass in the world

i will miss you
so will the dog
he’s even sadder than i am

Everybody Needs Something

My buddy needs twenty bucks so he can go out drinking tonight. My father needs me to help him put a roof on his house. My mother needs me to fix a flat tire. My sister needs a bag of dope. My brother needs a ride to the west side of town. My wife needs affection, a haircut, and a new car. My daughter needs a pink dress, new shoes and another Barbie doll.

A Made Up Story About An Old Girlfriend

The last time I saw Jenifer she was standing next to a bonfire in the desert talking to an old enemy of mine

I killed my beer threw it at a cactus while she and my enemy walked away from the fire into a trailer

Twenty - five years later

I was sitting in a bar

Wondering whether I should switch from beer to whiskey

I haven’t seen you in years she said how have you been

Great I said

Me too

I’m lying I said

She bought me a beer

I was thinking about switching to whiskey I said

Don’t let me stop you

You still look great I said

You aren’t half - bad yourself

I’m immature and that keeps me looking young

I should try that

It wouldn’t work - you can’t fake it – Besides you should keep doing what you’re doing – It’s working great

Thanks – do you want to get out of here

Go where

I don’t care

The last time I saw you – You were with that idiot John

I still am

That sucks

It’s not that bad

I took her to my apartment

This place is a pit she said

I haven't cleaned in a while would you like a beer I asked

She declined and didn't stay long

I drank the beer I offered her and two more while I fell asleep on the couch watching a baseball game

Sundown At Lake Five

Red sky cold water

Sitting on a raft waiting

For you to dive in

She Might Not Love Me Anymore

Cold hard wind blowing

West to east at dawn I wait

For you to come home

Moon Hanging Low

Moon hanging low

Over city
Foothill
Freeway
Colder

Than yesterday

4 – 30

Driving home from work

Saturday morning.