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Wednesday, February 25, 2009


There's a garden there,
with soft loamy soil
waiting for us.
It's a ways down the road,
after too many fights,
More love making than thought
humanly possible,
running into each other's arms
to hide,
making each other brave,
the two of us,
avoiding the world,
making strong,
facing the world,
Learning love,
beating the world.
After triumph,
and countless packs of
and a myriad of potions,
there is a garden,
with soft soil,
and sunshine for our backs,
rain for our heads,
and a little wooden house,
silly cats
with ridiculous names,
gorgeous children...
or not...
And a plane ticket
waiting on the desk.
By candle light
it reads "______"

Saturday, February 7, 2009

The American Way.

We have a method
in cities like this
for taking care
of moonstruck travellers
like you.
There aren't enough
to go around.
So you just calm down.
Do something else.
Be small,
you can pretend to be big,
pretend to be
Demand the adoration
of children,
Leave your thumbprint
in fucked up lives.
That's fine.
That's American.
But dreaming,
but going for that Moon.
That ain't American.
That was the 60's,
the 60's weren't American either.
All of that shit
is foreign.
too foreign.
Out of this world even.
Aliens are weird,
and we don't take
too kindly
to their types
around here.
So choose.
You either give that
space shit up,
and find a destructive way
to vent.
Or you ride
fuckin fire tails
high into
the black backed ocean
chasin' stars
and lovin' moons.
But don't fly too low kid.
Or we'll shoot you down.
Just like
the 60's.


Wednesday, February 4, 2009

What the World Needs Now.

John Lennon was right,
Love is all you need.
But we ain't got that,
All we got is a feeling.
And love is a Verb.