I’LL TAKE PLASTIC

wish me well I’m in a pattern of landing hard in this balloon filled with lead while feeling dark all over in the middle of the day when I know the eyes of a mannequin has a soul and a plastic heart truer than some that I know

WHERE I WALK

rain I got   crying wet onto me   diamond drops brightened by street lights making the worst appear washed and clean while puddles reflect neon’s as passing footsteps make busy waves disturbing what weeps and gathers from the under surface of heaven to the streets where I walk  

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MADISON AVENUE 1959

eyes with work a wall clock without mercy typewriter language paper thick with ink corner offices glass doors with names water tank and paper cups fluorescent lights no one notices the hum high heels hair spray jackets and ties felt hats everyone smokes see you tomorrow

RUNNING THE RACE

we are water within a great river   singular not yet seen   we move in flocks and herds   down roads climbing stairs to doors unfamiliar   within a few there is a calling a message scrawled on the heart of a gift yet used   we are a great rush of sound over … More RUNNING THE RACE

ANOTHER LAST NIGHT

the dogs of night get a new growl when backdoor clubs fill with evening voices   dancers sway rhythmically within clouds of smoke   lipstick numbers appear on napkins when approving eyes catch a glance   yesterdays salted wounds disappear as morning stretches over empty streets

NOT JUST ANYBODY

there’s an opportunity of attitude   to go the other way avoiding the lines   to immediately impose on something to believe in without striving   receiving the interest of everything your out of   becoming more than anybody not just an everybody leaving the rough road behind

CASUAL VISITOR

spider stars high above   suspended glory drawing my eyes to swim up within cool clean air receiving forgiveness as everything opens up and moonlight falls back onto my face I realize I am a hermit visitor within a moving universe  

SERVING TWO MASTERS

we awake under rumpled sheets of thoughts the prison of two ideas   lines dissolve between dreams and the mystery of fragmented images   remembering corner shadows and glimpses of the lost and parts of what is never found as we rise from bed becoming the servant to the master of day  

AWAKE

the roar of blood keeps the skin from sleeping   while spirits speak the language of awake and night dreams are absorbed into the flash of neon messages directly from the mouths of angels speaking of the everlasting though even they fail to fully understand   while half notes and unanswered prayers drip like a … More AWAKE