Here there, little man

Watcha doin here

On the dusty roads where

Pick ups and bajos

Are king?

Take back your Armani suit-

It don’t mean nothing here.

===

She sits, dreaming of places yet to be

Paris, Mali, Verona, Madrid.

Perfectly oblivious to the fact

That the sun is shining on

Her too-young face

And the brick before her

That was hand carved.

====

White dust bunnies descend

Through the sunlight,

Dodging between the brackets

Of a white window blind.

This is the only kind of

Snow you’ll see in Florida,

I whisper to myself

As I stare at the negative space

Between me and the clothes you threw on the floor.

====

The wine dark sea

Envelopes you, Penelope.

Your sweat drenched back

Gathers grains of sand

And they become your diamonds.

Ithaca cries for you, lady,

You half window,

Un accepting of suitors.

“Do you not understand,” they say

“That your husband is gone?”

You have no reason for diamonds.

You deny all suitors,

Content with laying yourself into the sea,

Whispering his name into the wind.        

__

Three things are red-
My lips
The rose that you gave me tied on my wrist
And the passion between us as I
Brush you closer.
"You're a dream," I say-
"This will make it so very hard to wake up."
"I'm a dream," you say-
"I'm more real than anything you'll encounter when you wake up."
Black and white,
Like life.

====

Beyond every shadow
Peel back the layers
And there you'll find, under
Crusts of dried dreams
A memory-
Slightly moldy-
A breaded thought left out
Of the fridge for far too long.
But cut off the hard parts
And you will find the fruit-
An image of us,
Making silly faces and laughing too hard
To take a picture.

=====

=====


It's almost like my life the past few weeks is in review
Before the memories leave my mind
They turn themselves inside out-
Like shirts fresh out of the laundry
And then disappear,
As socks do in the dryer
Oh, if only it were that easy to dismiss
And say that you were a clothes cycle
I once watched go round and round.

======

It'd make it much easier for me
If you would stop running through my mind.
There are marks on my cerebrum that read Nike-
You have become that frequent a visitor.
I'll start to do something that, I'm sorry,
But doesn't involve you
And you start lacing up your jogging shoes.
All right, fine- run on-
But one of these days would you mind staying?

God Bless You, Mr. Salinger

If you ever wanna be referenced for the rest of your life,
And never left alone-
If you wanna have silly ska and punk bands beat the crap out of your work
Analyzing every word you've ever written
Repeating them, illustrating them,
And alluding to them with every repetitive chord-
Write a book like Catcher in the Rye.
If you want every movie ever made to have some echo of your character,
Your protagnist repeated, your settings revisited,
And your themes dug up like dinosaur bones-
Take a crazy seventeen year old, give him a dialect,
And name him Holden.
Toss in a exactly one hundred and twenty six "phonies",
Sell it to every English class that ever existed,
And you've got yourself a classic every killer reads.
God bless you, Mr. Salinger.
You gave meaning to one more hopeless teenager.


I'm really not as cynical as this makes me sound... in fact, I'm quite in love with this man.

We've talked about the moon and sun,
The Mayans and Buddhists.
Death and life,
Water and ground-
All parallels in the world.
We've discussed ideas others have given us,
Dreams and revalations.
I bored you with Keats,
You drove me mad with politics,
I guess you could say we're even.
You scared me with news from our current government,
And I told you my goals as far as dreaming went.
Silly me, I promised to show you lucid dreaming.
We discussed rebirth,
Religion,
Recussitation.
Water and Moon-
And the genders of both.
The one thing we forgot we the inevitable-
"Oh, by the way,
I've become attached to you.
Be mine?"
The simplest thing in life, so easily forgot.

You wove my dreams with butterflies-
In the dream I knew I should not be having
Because evtually I'd awake to a reality that failed me
I awake where I do not remember leaving off-
Because the dream was so real-
But what is real?
"Real" is what the general population
Agrees COULD, logically, happen.
Gone are the monarchs,
Waving goodbye with their wings.