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.