nine in the morning it rains there are no clouds
just a dark gray block in the sky angelic concrete
i am longing for something or someone to come
in to this rain with me
alas the freight train
she won’t come
she has never been here
nor can i see her smokestack on the horizon
and when the sun sets
the sun does set in the rain
but i can’t see it
the freight train will still have not passed me by
what would i do in that train you ask
i would get out of here
to another place
another time
another land away from the nightmares
away from the cures
at this point
this point right here
we are all mad
the disease is the Garden of Eden
i give into the garden
the garden is in the freight train
there with wood paneling
like an Irish grandmother’s home there with drinks
there with spirits
the freight train rattles and my longing evaporates
it is now nine at night
i have not slept
i have not slept
i will not sleep
the freight train
i don’t see her
she won’t come for me and my longing
the rain will not come
i was born on a rainy day
the rain she is my lover and my companion
and she also sits with me in longing for other skies
that only the freight train can give or take away
Poetry
done a little dance
right in the middle of your eyes where the universe glows
i can see the future there i go
i tango to the middle
of the nuclear bomb
evaporated into the nothingness of everything in the world
and the world above that world and so forth and so on
i don’t claim to be a physicist
i don’t claim to be anything because i want to tango into the middle of your nuclear bomb
i don’t understand how it got this way
there are sunsets and there are sunrises
and there are suns and there are moons and stars
and i suppose i’ve been told there is a God
but the one who told me is merely a human
how can we know
there is fire
there is hot hot fire
there is very cold ice
there are lights that are just imagination
of those who’ve come before me after they’ve tangoed into your nuclear bomb
in the midnight puddle of water
where the crazy heard the call
to tango into the river of everlasting
that went inevitably wrong
with head underwater
as the oxygen bubbles pop
the cries of angst
burst out at me
mirror mirror in the dark
fade boom atomic tomb
time and me
time sits across from me
sticks her dried out tongue at me
i ignore time and i think about how the Sun catches in his eyes
sometimes the night dwells there too
the Moon interlaced with sparks of blue and black and only a color that God can name
time and i we have this relationship contingent upon
who falls from the table first she’s so wicked mean witch and i almost the same
then i think about him
i think about how those eyes
the Sun has caught and keeps me mesmerized taking my plans away from me
the Sun gets lost and the spider web blue topaz those are
i’m a fool
time laughs at me
she laughs at me
lady time she’s never believed that he catches the Sun in his eyes
she doesn’t want me to know that the radiant ocean of his soul is where i can go
time is a jealous harpy
dry heavy silence
unyielding and she stares
me in my eyes that don’t catch hardly anything anymore
dark
fire out
tired
sometimes we muse at the thought of how he catches
the Sun in his eyes blue so so blue
my eye
my third eye so so extinguished
2317
we
wrestle
wildly
without
words
willfully
wrong
when
woeful
wasting
grady’s haiku
from the depot 🙂
barbed wire
it was quick easy clean and graceful dreams today for me are sharp
wires on the way over hard horizon the heart is tossed away there are some music notes along side like comets
mocking heart in her exile away from him
upon the crossing of that place heart’s lost hind sight again with only tear salted picture frames of his hand no longer holding her
partial ballad for Pam and Jim
i once found him looking into my eyes holding my hands
he moved me to live to love to laugh
while the endless hoping
that my days will die fast
fuel the tomorrows that cast me into a grinding trap
i really wish i wouldn’t have to leave and pace back and forth between cold frontiers looking into darkness
the void is left
as limbo and i walk hand in hand exhausted
hail to R Banks for conceptualizing and making this offering and picture possible love you so much
like her
well she said
i’m done with my soul
all six lives are gone
the songs of victory
echo away from me
no need to be
anything else
i was what now i give
to you
English class
from the depot 🙂
oh hey teacher no i’m no poet
no need to give
me your Conklin pen
i’m just a kid from down the nickel loud mouth
skidded knees cigarette
boozer
blood upon her
sleeve
reveler of sunsets
procrastinator in the dawn
i am the honey of her thighs
and the pulsing
bang bang of his gun
but hey psssst mister i
ain’t no poet
bawdy as all hell quiet when i need to be
if some angel fell
in hell
i’ll go fetch em’ Darla
Hood impersonator feeler of the waste
inside their eyes
corny graffiti kids
longing for the
it apps to arrive
liquor store dwelling social services auditor
of her majesty the
street but mister
i assure you mister i ain’t no poet
AC/DC cranker upper
Curtis Mayfield fuck play it louder
poker player chopper rider star watcher little fighter
hey man call me
foolish lady riff raff heart
View original post 19 more words
dama de fogo
from the depot 🙂
heart
under
your beating
laughing rhythm
burns the fire of
joy like no other at
watching the delft blue beyond
spread away in grandeur pageant
so the lady of the golden light
may dance for the ushers of Nirvana
words less spoken 