Ghost Story

I am painting a picture of a ghost I dreamed about last night I drank too much went to bed early woke up in the middle of the night because I forgot to brush my teeth smoked a cigarette on 28th Street my wife wondered where I went when I returned she said I thought you left me why would I do that I was counting rocks I said getting the perspective correct is difficult ghosts cast no shadows even in dreams they are as elusive as healing pools wisdom or a well designed house in a canyon of fools with a fast river flowing through.

?

I wonder
What will happen
When my
Neon Budweiser sign
Burns out.

A Pretty Good Song

He told me in a bar in Jackson Hole that he would write me a song. I told him I can always use a hit. A month or so later I got a tape in the mail from Montana. It was a simple love song that my band and I recorded in three hours, in my studio, in the basement. It made it to number three. I always liked him. I wish it made it to number one. I’ve recorded worse songs that did.

Sun In The Eyes

The sun was in my eyes.
Sometimes, you need more than sunglasses
To shield yourself from that bastard.
The radio wasn’t coming in too good.
I had a headache.
My old lady was pissed because I did all the dope
Just to get moving.
I told her to shut the fuck up,
I make the bread.
But it’s stress nonetheless.
You should have turned left.
What?
Left, you should have turned left.
My bad.
I did a U turn.
Took the prick
To his house.
He gave me ten for eight.
Not too bad,
But
I feel like shit.

Decline Of Western Civilization

In class
We were asked
To ask
Each other a question.
A lot of students
Asked about favorite books.
Some students
Said
They did not read enough
To have a favorite book.

Makes this student
Of twenty-five years
Wonder
Why they wouldn’t be happier
In a factory
Or
Digging a hole.

Yeah
Yeah
Yeah

I know

They’re
Too
Good
For
That.

Brianna

My mother calls
My uncle
The doctor
He’s a cab driver
So I don’t know why
She calls him that
She says it has to do
With my grandfather
And basketball
I call him Mister
I call everyone Mister
He calls me Stump
Whatever that means
I guess it doesn’t matter
What we call our friends
My mother says
I have to go to bed
Right now
So I guess
I can think about this tomorrow

Listening To Johnny Cash In The Middle Of The Night

Snow falling cold wind

Whiskey strange sweet dreams burning

House of love machine