Wednesday, March 29, 2017


I’m in a mood.  I’m in a stall.
Can’t hardly see beyond the fall.
The films that play within my mind.
I may not see, but I’m not blind.
I want to feel that something more.
Knocking, mocking at my door.
I crave the kiss, the kiss of death.
But also life!  But also breath!
So, soon I’ll pray and I’ll repent.
Dissent.  Descent.  Relent.  Ascent.
Circle the circle.  Round and round.
I once was lost, but now I’m found.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Leaning Into You

Leaning into you

Stupid me, I trip and fall.
Did I do it on purpose?  Or just drop the ball?
You lift my head.
You lift my head.

My state of sorry is status quo.
Again and again, ‘cuz where else can I go?
Away from you?
Away from you?

Please stir up your spirit in me.
Banish the demons, Lord, hear my plea.
And lift my head.
And lift my head.

And now the peace I understand.
Release my stuff.  I open my hand.
And lean into you.
Lean into you.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Saturday in Venice

Saturday in Venice

Sun bouncing over the net and a beach ball in the sky.
Homeless in bikinis and hot girls getting high.
Saturday in Venice, so much to see and do.
Saturday in Venice, such fun for me and you.

Muscle builders singing songs, musicians flexing quads.
Eating sushi as we surf. Now what are the odds?
Saturday in Venice with sunscreen on my toes.
Saturday in Venice with sand between my nose.

Swimming down the boardwalk, walking in the blue.
Buying knockoff jewelry from a sentient Gnu.
Saturday in Venice and things are getting weird.
But Saturday in Venice is why I volunteered.

Roasting some brewski and drinking down s’more.
The fire’s burning cold, but the sand’s turning warm.
Saturday on Earth 19 and everything’s wrong. Or is it?
Now it’s back to my Earth, but I’ll be back to visit.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Old Blues

Old Blues

She slipped on the jeans one more time.
And took comfort from the old and the faded.
From fleet, flying days and crazier nights.
On the floors of some people she hated.

Screaming and shouting and then running off.
Those blue denim legs were so young.
Into the wild and into her life.
Away from her mother’s tongue

Backpacking through Europe on pennies per day.
Eating crepes and shallow one-liners.
Stopping at an old cathedral to pray.
Cheating the foreign designers

Meeting Stefan and calling his con.
Romancing the city.  Up until dawn.
Eat, drink and be married.  And then move along.

Stranger men and stranger beards.
Crinkling in the sun.
Brazilian heist in dungarees.
And the pocket held a gun.

Desperate for money, worse for wear.
Life is tricky turning tricks.
A little hole here and a little hoe there.
Nothing a patch won’t fix.

The old and the young, they came to call.
The bass thump-thumped against the wall.
She gave her body, but that was all.

Through glossy enamel splatter fights.
The pants became a work of art.
He painted landscapes in the Outback.
And loyalty on her heart.

She took the first flight home
The letter stuck to her hip.
She held back the tears and most of her fears
And arrived a day too late.

She slipped on the jeans one more time.
And though they were worn and quite jaded,
They went to the funeral and stood by her side.
With the woman she thought she had hated

A half empty house and talking is hard.
Harder still is paying her dues.
But now, at last, perhaps she has
A place to hang Old Blues.