RAIN DANCE

Standing out on the gravel, I can see the storm coming.

Heavy and grey, rolling in from the West with steady intent.

The damp air shifts nervously, pushing back fog, gusting up from the ground

As the sky finally opens

And the first cold fat drops plummet to the clay.

Gathered on the porch of the red wooden shack,

We press back against the wall, away from the wide waterfalls 

That run wild over the gutters and spill out

Flooding the mulch walkways with ankle deep puddles.

I sink my feet into them and walk slowly,

already soaked,

to my car.

I want to stand out there with my face to the sky

Feeling the spirit of my ancestors

cling to me like my t-shirt

and dance to the sound of the thunder breaking.

But people are watching,

and the roads are flooding.

This is no time for a rain dance.

In the shelter of the car,

I strip down to my underwear and turn on the defroster.

My clothes soak the passenger seat,

and my windows steam.

I light a cigarette.

Rain taps out an angry rhythm on the roof,

and I turn the radio up, rolling through swamped streets

that threaten to swallow the vehicle from the tires down..

Halfway home the storm breaks, slightly,

turning over to soft showers singing on wet leaves.

The breeze rustles through tree tops, whispering the secrets of life,

And wet earth breathes the smell of an ancient memory,

Where once we dared to dance in the lightning.

TRIGGER FINGER

Stupid little fingers

don't go tapping out your morse code heart

to the one on enemy lines.

Didn't you get the memo?

Brain says we don't feel that way anymore

and She's got Heart under lock and key 

for insubordination in the ranks

Now confined to solitary...

Stupid little fingers

wanna give it up quick like lightning

like virgins in backseats

taking back promises they crossed over hoping for

Stupid little fingers

picking at the scabby plastic suture threads of

open triple bypass surgery

patchwork blood letting

Stupid little fingers

tippy tap dancing 

on the keyboard of regret

you don't hit send til I tell you to

Stupid little fingers

think they run this joint

but I'll cut them off

if they don't stop straying.

Back To Basic

DISCONNECT.
I spent two months in self induced solitary.
I had no internet service and only basic cable.
I didn't frolic wildly with friends, or obsessively check my emailfacebooktwitter.
I worked, and counted my pennies, and tried to climb out of debt.
I hung art work on my walls and curtains on my windows and unpacked the last of my boxes.
It's only been four years since the move.. Feels like sanctuary again.

CELEBRATE.
My Aunt died of cancer over the holidays.
Made me appreciate my appreciation. For everything.
The wonders of life.
Fresh produce and clean dishes, a cold glass of wine, early morning sunlight.
Running in snow with dogs, laying in bed with someone you love. Chocolate.
A good cup of coffee. Working the body hard. Letting your mind dream.

SIMPLIFY.
Life is too sweet to be filled with the bitterness of worry.
Life is to preciously unique to be compared,
one individual to the next.
We all march steadily to the grave. It's not a race.
Overflow your numbered days with the deliciousness of things you love.

PAY ATTENTION.
You are missing all the beautiful details of this magical exsistence.
We are water and iron and electricity
and we are spinning through space towards our destiny at the speed of thought..
And that right there is a miracle.

I Love You, Fruitlessly

I love you, fruitlessly..

Like my trees in winter

with a spring that's never coming.

All my wild flowers

Wilted, throwing petals down 

like silk stockings at the foot of the bed.

I love you, fruitlessly..

Like a treasure map with no X,

and a rainbow without a pot of gold.

Lazy rivers

Icing over

Forgetting what it's like to thaw.

I love you fruitlessly..

A journey with no end,

A ship always on the horizon.

HOIST THE COLORS

I'm bored and everyone is old.

The whole world went back to school and so did their children.

And we never learn a god damn thing.

Didn't I try and tell you once to be open, 

and to listen to everything around you..?

I am overwhelmed.

The hum of urban neon chaos, 

the soundtrack of my dreams, 

the song in my footsteps.

Crafting Life like the pattern of a wedding dress.

Marking in chalk, pinning things down, 

cutting delicately on dotted lines.

Poised for Power 

feels more like

Standing on the Precipice.

At any moment my castle may tumble into the sea.

I may be thrashed to bits on the rocks below.

Drowned in the white waters and sunk down into cold depths.

Falling is the easy part-You just fall.

It's the jumping that's hard.

It's the landing that's tough.

Flying with a mostly blind eye on the horizon,

I long for the fall.

I wish for the tumble head over heels into Anything.

My life; A long series of blurry cartwheeling landscapes.

Somersaulting before my eyes.

The Spin Cycle.

Going over and over my Self.

Over and over again.

Revising, reviewing, redoing-all the same shit.

Style this next flight a long one, to someplace I've never been-

Maybe around the Sun and the Moon

Breaking back through the atmosphere like Fire.

I'm bored and America is an angry old woman- and so is everyone in it.

Shake off your cobwebs and burn down your pretense 

And fly your rebel colors if you can hear me..!!

Prepping for another unknowable departure to Anywhere

I swear I won't even take my landing gear this time.

I make no plans to touch down, or to ever return at all... 

Train Tracks and Other Metaphores

This is a poem for my generation

written on a Monday at the office,

while I Facebook and YouTube

instead of filing and data entry.

Because I'm trying to peer over the wall of time

and spy on a life I had once, where we all went to high school together

and cut classes in favor of the beach and the woods

and driving around in your parents convertible without their permission.

And in the dark of the night my footsteps make no noise,

and the cars on the high way are a river of fire. 

I am followed by my street light shadow,

these are train tracks and other metaphors.

Where are we? We wonder out loud,

to each other, and to ourselves, and to no one in particular...

Who have we become, and who did we want to be?

And did we lay our plans with as much care as we should have?

Probably not. But there's no time now to,

Lament some of my moments of execution..

Where I lost my grace, and fell out of they eyes of honesty,

and struck out.

And in the dark night my footsteps make no noise,

and the road to anywhere is paved with dreams.

I am followed by my street light shadow,

these are train tracks and other metaphors.

We are treading water somewhere between the shores of Child

and the rocky horizon of Adult.

We are piled into rowboats, some of us with children,

some of us with men, and some of us without..

We are filled with wanting and painted in covetous technicolors-

We dare to dream the American Dream that our parents dreamed

and distilled from their parents who dreamed and distilled it from

their parents, and now it holds just a drop if it's original elixir, but we dream on.

And in the dark of my dreams my footsteps make no noise,

and the yellow brick road rolls out a red carpet.

I am followed by my street light shadow,

these are train tracks and other metaphors.

I want to live in a big house with a porch

and a yard for my garden and animals and children,

and a barn so I can hang my half moon out on the eaves

and wind chimes from the rafters.

Maybe I will have some chickens,

and a goat, or a pig...

And I'll make pottery and beaded necklaces

in between pulling weeds and putting on plays with the neighborhood kids.

And in the dark before the dawn my footsteps make no noise,

and the path we walk is unmarked and winding.

I am followed by my street light shadow,

these are train tracks and other metaphors.

I have to write this down because I FORGET MYSELF (all the time....)

and then go throwing blame at every one around me.

Telling them they don't know who I am,

when really it's me, making a false idol of myself.

And at least we are all lost together,

you and me, and all of us, in our rowboats,

between here and the future, 

still updating on Facebook, to validate our existence.

And in the light of day my footsteps make no noise,

and the faces of strangers are all familiar to me.

I am followed by my street light shadow,

these are train tracks and other metaphors.

Vagabond Sue

Mama said start running,

Daddy's bad with advice.

I grew out of dirty rags

and into sin and vice.

Now they keep an eye out

for me and all my lies

and me, I bow out early

and sever all my ties.

I'm dancing round the rodeo

just me and all the clowns

My boots are worn and dusty

from jumping town to town.

It's me and my dog, Rusty,

who's only got three legs,

and we live thin on Whiskey

and other fellas kegs.

Sometimes I dance on table tops

and swing from chandeliers,

but mostly I'm just riding trains

and have been now for years.

Someday they say I'll settle down

when youth has run from me

but I just keep on dancing

and livin wild and free.

'Cos the night has got me in it's hands

and God smiles down on me, 

I said, I'll just keep on dancing now,

and livin wild and free...