Learning to walk

That night I’m pretty sure when the barfly

took off her top

I said

I haven’t seen tits like that in 20 years.

The only reason

I’m not sure

is because those words, you would think

would be a mood killer.

What ever the case was

that was the truth

I had not seen tits like that in twenty years.

From that night forward

I no longer clinched my jaw so tight I got headaches.

I worked

I drank

I ate.

I fucked.

My headaches went away.

The beer flowed.

I raised hell

because I was good at it.

As If The Moon

I watched you go by

with all that you were

there before me

in the late night moon

you sat and looked up

as if the moon

had never been there before

the light shined down on you

holding the dark back

I watched you looking

as if you knew it all

and all that was dark

was in your control.



Shattered Glass

When I heard the news

I felt the sun in my heart

It wasn’t there to warm me

It burned a hole in my chest

When I heard the news

I laughed shattered glass

gasped under a thought I couldn’t grasp

And reached for the bottle

When I heard the news

Black and white print

of everything we were

turned yellow

where my ribs met

the weight collapsed

all that was good about the day.







Sir Andrew Dot Com


For some reason, I was thinking about you today. Trying to remember all the details, your crooked long nose, the way you spoke, how the girls listened.  Your Welsh accent and European clothes. It was all so easy.

You sensed want on people, their eagerness to know you, to be you and around you.  Words even when acidic were lyrical to those you insulted.  By nights end, everyone sounded like you.

We would put two packs of cigarettes and a bottle or two of scotch on the table under the darkness of winter, drink until the smoke formed clouds on the third floor of your odd one bedroom apartment you shared with your girlfriend.

We raced down the road.  You in your BMW and me in the Buick.  My couch on steroids verses your top down road hugger.  I beat you on the straight path, the curves loved you.  But most of all I remember how when I moved away, with my wife, way out on the east end, you would make a country ride out of coming to see me.

Car top down, you and your lovely girlfriend going out of your way, the whole way, taking the back roads.  The point of moving out there was solitude.  Far enough away where people would have to make an effort. Weeding out the meaningless conversation from everyday encounters.  You encompassed that on every ride.

When the whole clan was there, you always showed up, 100 dollar bottles of wine in your hand.  You knew the wife loved good wine.  Somehow you and I always found ourselves with a bucket of ice and some good scotch out by the fire pit.

My divorced cousin asked you, like Americans do, “What do you do?”.

“Rum runner” you said.

Your wallet impressed her the most but her false cares didn’t impress you.  She asked for months “Who was that friend of yours?”

I called you Andy, the name you hated the most.

“His name is Andy.”

Because that was all she needed to know.

It was all you wanted her to know.

Then the  dot com bubble burst, millions of dollars were lost, dreams extinguished and lives crushed.

You moved to a fishing village somewhere in Spain, fell in love for the first time, like nothing ever happened. It was always so easy for you.












Nothing Common

My head swings

a rapid cutting ball

I do my best

I chew through walls

I want you to understand

I want you exposed

Our blood should boil

I want you to understand

I can not leave well enough alone

because that’s not good enough for me

nothing common usually is.




Stubborn like water

you blow

swirling and pushing

never giving in

drowning yourself in yourself

wearing down or outright drowning

all that the conflict with your ways.

listening to nothing but the tide

the pulling

the raging tide.





Choking the chain

Shattered ice and all the fragments

tiny shards of broken glass

how fragile it all is

walking around with fake heads that swivel

office chairs and the leash

got you

got you

on hold

grinding down

working hard

living for the job.

Barely living for what matters

shattered ice and broken glass

the world is on fire.



Riots in our minds

I am

watching a great ground swell

We are, at this time, at each other.

It’s not like the sixties

but hell, we are getting it on.

Full fledged fucking with each other.

I have to say I like it.

I like it because we are talking

Yeah there is a lot of shouting

but suddenly people not only care


are unafraid of engaging each other.

So I sit here on this eve


Can we all just get along?