You and I sat cold by the tent
you were stoned
I didn’t know
could be so bone cracking cold.
We watched campers
moving in and out like ants
on a drop of sweet
it was a vinyl gypsy night
as campfires curled snake smoke
against a carbon ink sky.
The beach was stark empty
you needed friendship
I offered only silence
silence and a beer
you wanted neither.
We smiled as laughter
rolled from nearby tents,
love laughter, bare skin giggles.
No stars shined in a bleak darkness
just a gnawing void never leaving.
God I feel it again today.
I saw my crepe hands reaching for a grandchild,
my crepe skinned arms wrapped around her small
waist, just one hug, just one small innocent gesture
before the wind and rain wash me away. Not a giant
step for a last, eternal bonding. So innocently she smiles
at her dry, wrinkled pap. For years now the clouds
have been gathering with tentacles of crashing horses
bearing down on my lungs and limbs. Soon my child
I’ll be seeking autographs from Jesus and Mary, two great friends.
Saw you last night walking the girders,
Golden Gate, not golden, not for you.
Metal diving board, a death trap for the sad,
I never knew and now my delusion comes true.
I am so sorry life has been cruel to you.
It’s been cruel to many before. I will never
feel those arms around me, those lips pressed
wetly against mine. What did you think I could do?
Did you see wings on my shoulders or sandals on my feet?
You’re gone, now I’m lost, I am sadder than you now.
Sad is the only word I can use, my eyes speak with my destiny.
I am strong.
Is that too snobbish for you?
I admit most women and men’s strength
far exceeds my trench of thought
but I know about wrong and right more than many,
less than some.
Being born in a manger doesn’t get it for me,
a step towards tribalism,
a graduated step towards modernism
not modern thought.
Worshiping in mansions and super domes
Is like Pink Floyd,
Your Jesus, your God, and Holy Ghost
left for Tahiti years ago,
first class seating on the U.S.S. Striker
I can only guess their whereabouts today.
Dead I suppose.
Sent to sea on a raft with burning coconuts.
My mind the big screen
Of my past
I watched me
slumbering in my arms
red hair satin soft
I watched us laugh
driving fast on gravel roads
kissing and so much more
can I find that path
back to those dark summer nights?
Will I laugh again
winking with a certain smile
touching so precious
we could barely breathe
forever in our mirrors
At this moment life is a child
swaying in its attempt to walk
without falling to its knees and screaming,
“Help me daddy.” Daddy left for Tulsa.
He’s dancing with a reaper,
carelessly throwing breath to the wind.
His lovers will die before Autumn leaves
touch the summer scorched grass.
Is it time now daddy?
I cannot say Apocalypse. My lips are blue.
So you broke down,
trying to find peace.
I know you don’t know
me. it happens you see,
you never see my yard,
weeds have taken over,
take cover I am dying.
Keep me somewhere in a pocket,
my family’s not on the docket
you say sardonic taste in my ears.
Go home little one, place my face
in a drawer, in an attic. I’ll see to it
you have part of me for Ash Wednesday.
Damned if time is waiting for you.
Whatever time means
just numbers on a piece of paper,
manmade hope and loss of memory.
We invented time and time disappears
without thought of you and I.
The world turns and with each turn
we gain a gray hair, a toothache,
wrinkles, somebody named Jesus,
his buddies God and something called
the Holy Ghost. All of whom fit into
an SUV, preferably a Toyota. For them
there’s no such thing called time.
We are the only creatures forgetting,
planning, hoping, and wishing for time.
Last time I spoke to my mirror
things were good and safe.
It’s been awhile since then
so today I decided to have a look,
change has come.
Gray clouds engulf my face
I think I’m about to rain.
There you were walking in the snow.
My baby boy grown, a free bird,
a man more than I could ever be.
Needless to say I love you my friend.
I can never find the words, I avoid them,
If there’s a heaven I hope we find it
together the way we used to fish when young.
I changed the hook and you made the catch.
Now, I’ve nearly lost you, just hanging by white knuckles
on a cliff, the cliff only a father and son can know.