will it touch my innermost longings,
and leave me breathless?
i mourned for closeness,
and now i am drunk,
staggering with the intimacy
of each and every tiny breath!
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Who is this stranger…
Wearing my dirty jeans?Tying my shoes?Whose face in my mirror?Who’s eating my toast?Who’s reading my book?Who’s sweeping my floors?Whose lips on my prayers?Who’s talking? Who hears?Whose eyes and whose thoughts?Whose footsteps? Whose fears?Whose hands and whose back?Whose growl and whose scent?Whose heart in the ashtray?Whose name on the stone?
give me an old Rambler Classic,
a double-bitted axe, anda twelve gauge pump…a coupla sleeping bags,and a pretty good tent.a half dozen books, a coffee pot,and an old cook stove…an old Gibson acoustic,and an old Case knife.my old dog, and a womanwith a little color in her soul…and, by God, i’ll find America!
doth molten steel have a memory,
does the tree shout for joy or weep,when it’s cut down and into firewood?does the river have a destination?does the moth call the flame god?does the dirt thrown on the gravewhisper kind words of farewell?does the unconceived baby remember dying?doth not god shutter at the name god?do the funeral and the wedding dance arm in…
i drink the cup
i revere your scars,your bruises,the stink of your heart.the scent of your eyes,the silence of your ears…my tongue writes your bodyon infinity’s glass!i listen for your voicebeneath the trees.i feel your nearnessin the hoot of the owl.i share your anguishby the silent small fire….the horse i ride,bears your name.i am the ghost of city streets,the…
bumming around
sleeping under bridges,or just under…the night sky…working when icould find it.selling bloodwhen i couldnt!gather a little change,stop in a dinerfor a cup ofblack coffee…writing poemson napkinswith pencils…leaving them formy tip…unsigned, forgottenprayers, a forgottenman, a forgottentime!