4-28 Everytime I Say Goodbye I Blame The Eggs

There it is,
my schmaltzy title,
but it might be because,
I overcooked,
my eggs this morning,
but I cannot find the tears,
in the words,
so I sit here,
annoyed and bloated,
thinking instead,
about stuffing my face,
with sushi,
making smart choices, and
not so smart choices,
one more plate, right?
and all of you,
sitting in the booth with me,
when I see our crooked faces,
instead of feeling warmth inside,
which might be gas at this point,
as I woke up last night,
and grabbed the chips from the cupboard,
-smart choices
I keep,
wondering,
how is it a restaurant runs,
out of cheap white wine,
on a Monday evening,
when I should be hugging,
you with phrases about
how awesome community is,
friends, blah, blah, blah, blah,
blame the eggs,
but I just can't seem to find the right words,
to say,
pass the soy sauce, please.

04-27 Again.

I did not know you.
I did not try.

But what I heard,
made me cry,
quietly,

as if you were next to me,
invisible,
as you were next to me,
invisible,

crying quietly,
while you tried
to get people to know you,
but,

here we are,
and there you are,

so what we do next,
wishes don't pull a carriage down the road,

nor do empty promises,
but maybe this next go round,
as second chances go,

We''ll say hi.

4-26 In Which Autumn Bitch Slaps A Hapless LoveTorn Victim

after three hours, 

I catcalled my bloody mary's,

with my tongue,

sweet cakes, I said,

with pepper stinging on my breath,

"you should have married me,"

then, I roll my ice, 

at his innocent face,

and stalk off, pouting,

in my hiking boot heels,

he weeps on his knees,

to see me leave,

crying, "baby, baby, baby."

but this is not how it happened,

and I'm not going to tell you what happened,

because it didn't,

and that's all I want to say about that,

oh, and, 

a husband is not a boyfriend,

a boyfriend is not a lover,

and a lover, is nice,

but different than good.

4-25 Sea-Tac Airport, Here

here.

I was a straight man,
passing through,
I was a park ranger,
returning,
I was a gay man,
becoming,
I was an artist,
leaving,

today,
I am,
a ghost,
in these hallways,
between the footsteps and elbows,
of the people,
rushing,
blurring by,
in bags,
around me,
I brush,

the straight man,
passing through,
the park ranger,
returning,
the gay man,
becoming,
the artist,
leaving,

they don't see me,
but I see them,
and we are,

here.

together.

4-24 Funeral

in the painting,
there is my mother,
and there is me.

she is wearing,
a blue knit Aran sweater,
I gave her once,
I am in a loose fit mauve tie,
my young hand,
covers her older one,
we do not touch like this often,
but the painter has pushed us,
unwillingly together,

still I am not looking at her,
she is not looking at me,
but my hand, is,
covering hers,

in her other hand,
on a green and white dress,
but you can't see that,
she is clutching tightly, with wrinkles,
around her fingers,
around her eyes,  but she doesn't look,
old,

the painter has made love with the light
of noon, giving her,
the pale, yellow, and golden browns,
to match the almost colorless blue sky above,
my knees away from hers,
are crossed in dark jeans, with faded brown leather boots,
folding chairs carry us,

it could be summer, or a wedding,
how does one tell it is a funeral?

perhaps it's because we cannot see you,
the painter.

this we mourn.

04-23 Unlocked #7 (Shoulder Series)

the hand breathes,
over my stomach,
a galaxy of stars,
giving birth to my
breath tingling, as
I reach for the darkness,
welling up between your
fingers clutching my head
like a broken egg,
to baptize me,
as I shudder in your
fatherly, embrace,
the demon eating
the flesh of the children,
I want to curl away from you,
but I shake in an unforgivable
ecstasy, is this what it means,
to heal?

4-22 Up- Yosemite National Park

mother,

the dogwood uncurling,

drips white,

on my face, I am

walking,

between where

and there,

looking up, and up, and up,

and

drip,

I squeeze her hand,

stepping carefully,

between, 

oval shapes, zig-zags, lines,

blending, 

gray, black, brown,

speckled white,

puddle, 

I stop,

looking up, and sideways, and around,

and then,

up, and up, and up,

morning fog, uncurling,

reaches away from us,

in the field,

I let go of her hand,

running, skipping,

awkward, two-step,

one step, almost slip,

I arrive,

in the sun,

filtering, unsure,

out of the not fog,

green blades of drops,

grasses, slivers,

warm shivers,

my ankles are wet,

but, 

across the field,

I look out, 

and then,

up,

and up,

and up,

and down, I follow,

follow, 

my mother is behind me,

she is looking at,

me, looking up,

the trees rising,

down the water falling,

I am cold again, all at once,

my hand uncurling,

grabs hers,

and we,

look,

up.  

4-21 Mr. Snow and I Go To Lunch

oh, Mr. Snow,

I say with the car door open,
in the rain pouring,
outside my open car door,

oh, Mr. Snow,
by now, you should know,
it's past the time,
I should go, Mr. Snow,
and this,

the rain pouring outside,
my open car door,
in the rain pouring,
you should know,
Mr. Snow,

this,
I say,
when it's time to go,
in the pouring rain,
outside,
in the pouring rain,
when I close my car door,

and

listen to the rain,
oh, Mr. Snow,
by now you should know,

listen to the rain,

go.

4-20 Make Him Sparkle

late night,
in the editing room,
I look at your eyes,
looking back at me,
at the camera,
you don't look at him,
he is unsure,
cautious in the photos,
he is not used to the,
attention, the need,
you feel, to look
at the camera,
looking at me,
waiting for me,
to tell you I love you,
when I know you do,
he smiles, surprised,
to be with you, but not,
awkward, you see this,
but you don't see this,
this is Pandora whispering,
in my ear, in the editing room,
with you looking at me,
and him not,
knowing where to look,
except at you,
and you don't look at him,
if you did,
the photo,
would,
make him sparkle,
all I do,
is capture what I see,
and I know he could be,
beautiful to me,
I could make him beautiful to me,
but I can not make him beautiful to you,
so I don't look at him,
I look at you,
looking at me,
wondering why
it is so easy,
to make you sparkle,
in the late night,
of my editing room.

4-19 When Next I Howl At The Moon

when next I howl at the moon,
it is you gypsy lover,
I call,
to the sanguine river,
of the autumn fall,
running hot,
and dark,
in the ember-ed desert,
of my hungered tune,
it is you, and I, and the harvest moon,
as the wild wolf call, come
as the unfurled ribbon of song, come
as the beast of the run,
into the swallowing sky, come,
sing the night, long,
it is you and I,
gypsy lover and the moon,
when I next I howl,
into my arms,
come,
come,
the night ends too soon.

4-18 The Argh of Now

jawbreaker,
cracks in my throat,
forcing the hurricane,
-out.

4-17 When The Ocean Said Love.

when I close my eyes,
there in my hand,
I feel the ocean,
blue moving,
grey sand,
sister and you,
with your eyes closed,
as the ocean,
moving,
here in your hands,
you and sister,
blue water moving,
grey sand pouring,
when she closes her eyes,
there in her hands,
you are her ocean,
blue water forming,
grey sand returning,
sister and you,
with our eyes closed,
we are your ocean,
blue becoming,
grey returning,
water, sand,
water, sand,
water,
sky,

here in our hands,
ocean.

4-16 Unlocked #4 (Shoulder Series)

flesh in your mouth,
it is mine,
gorging,
on my shoulder heart,
you grab,
me forcefully,
eating without intention,
the hollowness
of your gaze,
speaks only of
hunger, unending hunger,
your pregnant
moon belly,
saturated with
weight, hangs
flabbing, in your
deflating jerky
movements,
who created you?

was it me?
I look down at my chest,
where the hole of
your mouth, has
plunged a fist,
and I see it is pink,
and not black,
my hand in the slime
and clotted blue ink,
ripping out,
your entrails,
and feeding it
to your mouth,
where I swallow it,
because you need me too,
because it is in my nature,
because I can,

because when I taste you,
I see death,
the never ending,
falling up and into of
a darker midnight sky,
stars, wanderers, illuminating,
lanterns of light,
the familiarity of a path,
I once knew,

and my heart,
aches, like you,

to go home.

4-15 Where's Brad When I Need Him?

I'm scared, Joe.
this dance, will end,
in three minutes and a year,
can we pick up this waltz again,
the night always takes us
away into the morning,
sweet cinnamon,
cloves, cedar, and linen,
don't let go,
not yet,
I could love you,
in black suit, white tie,
and ring, promising,
champagne, whiskers, and kisses,
but I can't stay,
not yet,
no sweetie,
but we can pretend,
and then I'll pretend,
it's you,
holding my hand,
when the band stops playing,
lights twinkling
in a darker sky.

4-14 This Is How I Tell You I Love You (Reprise)

Mr. Snow,

the springs Rains,
I bring will come and go,
the boys and barbecues,
of summer, will watch the stars,
awake, on the steps of your patio,
but don't forget, babe,
when the maples leaves begin to glow,
I as the autumn rains will return,
to bring the smile with the snow.
this is how I love you,
this is how I know.

Mr. Snow,
this is how I love you,
this is how I know.

4-13 I Forgot To Turn The Page, Mr. Bumblebee

I must apologize,

my delicacy of souls and sirs, 

in the deepest and politest,

and most earnest of ways,

but your furrowed brow,

strong arms,

slight frown,

were the epicenter of 

an in-discretionary distraction,

due to an improbable negligent attraction,

so possible, I might ask of  an

allowable quota of forgiveness,

but I think, 

your sweet and sensible iota of a pardon, 

might do me the excruciating embarrassment 

of an accidental inexcusable, -

4-12 HornQuake

did you feel it?

about 3:28 pm,
pacific standard time,

the earth shook,
great with a fury of a terrible might,
thunder roared with teeth,
as fierce as the blackest of night,
an army of zombie dinosaurs,
arose a terrible, fierce, and frightening sight,
but really,

the phone just burped,
"woof,"

nopantzpdx says hi,
pigglywigglybearrug says grrr,
bottombastien asks what happening?
pccpunkinthefunkinthetrunk sends a
hey-lo, whistle, toodle and a grunt.
(block)
boxtopbabe, getmelaid, daddylicklicious,
silvertipsplayed,
groaner4u, travelinthru,
and masc4musc2wrstle4trble,
send a pic of their trick,
a thick stick of a shtick,
would I like to
(blush)
handsonnhary, handsomenthensome,
mississippimymary,
cubinaclass,
and discreetdrtybullbearly,
give it a show, hey, you're nearby,
woof,
what do ya know?

then it stops,
blue as the balls,
high in the sky,
the thunder meekly,
says good luck and good bye
the zombie dinosaurs,
cower, lost all their power,
shrink out of sight,
while the earth, laughs,
to cause such a fright,
taking pleasure
in his afternoon's delight.

3:29 pm
pacific standard time

did you feel it?

4-11 Sin Eater

grace my shoulder with
your fingers playing the piano
lightly behind me, ghost on the
feather of black thread,
unraveling, between your fingers,
pushing me down,
pinning me down,
while the rain plays the piano,
lightly on me, ghost in the
feathers of black and silver thread,
unraveling, between your fingers,
pushing in,
holding me,
pulling out,
holding me,
between the black and white keys,
stars come spilling out,
in the rain, unraveling,
from the thread where my
featherless wings,
ache between the black and white keys,
of my shoulder, stars
spilling into the rain,
unraveling, black, featherless,
thread, between your fingers,
you swallow me,
in the lightly falling rain,
of me unraveling, featherless,
between your fingers,
gracing my shoulder,
black and white,
feathers,
in the rain.

4-10 Spring Makes A Mister Sneeze

Mister (Sexy Bull),
at the ready,
in the comedy of morning,
oh court the young Achilles,
sung too early in the opera,
of my pastoral short comings,
when priming the pump,
the fat lady entered and sang,
an arresting aida,
without a warning,
laugh in the comedy of the morning.

Mister Producer,
oh sweet, snow falling,
Mister Producer,
are the holidays here so soon?
care you not, for the tea of summer,
which brings the honey to the spoon?
Oh, Mister Producer,
Mister Producer,
the winter is so far away,
come, come, follow the words,
the woods, the paths, the words,
what mother doesn't know,
can't lead you astray,
Mister Producer, come I tease,
what do you say?

Mister Valentine.
tender your heart,
into the spring of song,
your words call to me,
the robins in concert,
men of the summer come long,
to listen, so sweet,
to the lullaby wind,
holding the note,
soft, a gentle kiss,
asleep in your arms,
only you, only you, only you,
Mr. Valentine,
only you and all your charms.

Mr. Snow.
oh silly, adorable, deplorable,
mister, never kissed her,
(well once), sigh and a mister,
your eyes of idleness, of want,
the dick of your desire,
flicking your casual lady fingers,
delicate as chopsticks linger,
dipping the boys in sauce,
flirting with words,
on your tongue,
the men of your mind dripping,
kind as always to the fur muscled brats,
which you place so carefully,
as appetizers, dessert first,
main course last.

Mister Bumblebee.
the trembling unicorn,
in your arms,
held fast to the slipping
grace of the day, the waves,
of the shore came tumbling down,
the tide, as friend, to carry you away,
but instead you saw, in the quiet
questioning of your eyes,
the tempest of the hurricane,
bent as the willow to the creek,
in the surge of the rise,
that which is effortless,
that which is wise,
the which is you, Mr. Bumblebee,
the unicorn with the lavender eyes.

Mister (Gypsy Lover),
a verse for you,
yeah you, the drama,
the intrigue, the familiar,
spun tale, the song,
you don't want me to sing,
your day spun out,
tired and sore,
off to bed with you,
without me to bring,
I sighed, and more,
already knowing,
there's a part of me,
that waited long, to see,
if you would come,
and stay the night,
all cuddled and cute,
all verse and song,
before you leave,
to watch the summer,
carry the spring, so blithely,
away from you and me.

Mister (Princess)
you woke and rang,
your words as kind,
and soft, as the song,
you sang, once,
when the night called,
the moon to chill,
to still, you remind me,
to care, to see, to thrill,
to sing, and at the end of
the day, to be, me,
there is more to see,
than today,
there is more today,
than I can see,
and there is you,
a voice of reason,
reminding me,
you are as beautiful,
as the moon is beautiful,
to me,

carry the night into my bed,
sleep soft, the misters of the day,
sleep soft, and then tomorrow,
and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
I will write a poem,
for you,
to sing awake the sun,
as if it were,
the poetry of my misters tomorrow,
come sing the heart of my song today.

4-9 I Do Not Hum

I do not hum.
I do not give.
I do not let.
Except for you,
on the deck,
when I grabbed,
the sun,
with my fingers,
curling into my,
crying from the heat
of the cement,
smashed,
through,
because I
need you
to hum
I need you,
to give,
I need you
to let,
me,
feel the heat
of the cement,
on my cheek,
curling my
fingers into the sun.

4-8 At Least For One Day

at least for one day,
you,
said casually
to the romantic who
only heard,
at least for one day,
with strings, and words,
and an afternoon,
filled to the brim with champagne,
the wolf in your dance,
in your chest,
all that remains,
when you said,
at least for one day,
stay on the path,
and do not stray,
this is the house of September,
wrapped in a play
of sage and cotton,
lost to the blue-green sway,
of your words, cautioning me,
gypsy lover,
gypsy love,
at least for one day.

4-7 Well, What Can I Say?

Could it be spring again?
Is that why, I'm in spring again?
Is that why I'm the:

spritely, sprung,
of spring begun,
the after laughter of winter done,
the chit and chatter, which doesn't matter,
when your're chit and I'm a chatter,
cause it's all blather,
in the after laughter,
with spring begun,
to spritely spring,
the sprite in me,
begins to spring,
spritely!

I've become an,

embarrassing,
a carouseling,
caroling,
of predicament,
meets lusting
sin of sentiment,
when in the store
I should chance to see,
a cut-off, tatooed, brazen,
balding, bearded,
meat of personality,
oh my, oh me, oh my,
oh me, it's spring,
begun to sing,
begun to ring,
begun to sing,
and ring, and bring,

a burgeoning testosterone,
escapes my lips,
with a soft moan,
when a hunk,
with swaying trunks,
swaying chunks,
junk and trunks,
swaying junk and trunks,
walks on by,
dog on leash,
dog in hand,
walking dog,
on leather leash,
pleasurely, leisurely,
walking dog in hand,
in leather, pleasure,
swaying, leather,
pleasure, swaying,
could this weather get any better?
oh me, oh my, oh me,
oh my,
please let it be,
in the greater to plan
please let him be,
my kind of man,
oh I can't stand,
I stop and stare,
I don't care,
I want him to see,
that spring has sprung,
spring has begun, to spring,
and sprung, the spring,
in me,

cause,
everything, I mean,
everything,
looks good to me,
the baker, butcher,
busboy, bellboy,
boys with bells,
who ride the bus,
with boys who bake,
butch on a bus,
with boys and toys,
and bells, and joys,
such noise,
such toys,
such joyful noise,
with toys, and boys,
and bells, and ploys,
butch bakers, makers,
takers, wankers,
bake and shakers,
wanking, baking,
butch, joy, making,
shaking, wanking,
in clogs and thongs,
is it so wrong,
in boots and butts,
strutting along,
with bangles,
dangling, clanging,
changing, bells,
to ring the spring,
to bring the spring,
spring my ring,

what should I do?
which should I do?
who should I do?
even my words betray,
my sense of play,
propriety is a mister,
I refuse to court today,
oh what can I say,

it's spring, it's spring, it's

sprung.





,

4-6 An Excuse To Smile

if I met you in Portland,

maybe I wouldn't have,
the cello always playing,
when I touch another man's hand,
I wouldn't think,

about counting the breathes between,
when I ask another man to dance,

nor when I walk into a book store,
would I casually browse the magazine aisle,
knowing someone like you,
might happen to be there,
awkwardly smiling,
sitting on the bench,
not waiting, and waiting,
like me,

nor would I hesitate,
when I lean in to kiss another man,
with the rain dripping off my fedora,
thinking about how the rain spilled
of the rim of my ranger hat,
as I said goodbye to you,

maybe,
but I didn't meet you in Portland,
and now,

when rain drops fall,
the cello is always playing,
counting the breathes between,
as I sit next to you on a couch,
both in our pj's, you writing in your journal,
me in mine, as it would be,

if I had met you in a book store,
in Portland.

4-5 Without The Wind To Remind Me

the mind is quiet,
at thirty four thousand feet,
the week is gone,
below me,
past the clouds,
flat, horizon less,
I am somewhere,
down there drowning,
in a blue sound proof,
screaming ocean,
the heat of a few days,
gentle on my shoulder,
casts off blossoms,
from a plumeria tree,
for someone else
who needs a shadow,
I don't need him anymore,
not up here, not where,
the compressed air,
pushes in on me, around me,
down on me,
holding me,
in its anxiety driven,
state of not being,
without the wind to remind me,
I am movement,
I hold my breath,
waiting,
counting,
one, two,
three, four,
five, six,
seven, eight,
nine,
I am,
held.

4-4 Jungle Ride

we slid,
down,
the curve of the asphalt,
snake's back,
black as water,
slick with mud,
till we,
reached,
the tail,
holding on,
drenched,
slapped from side to side,
blind as the yellow-milk,
of his eyes, caught,
between,
the knotted prayers of our hands
silent in the whip-lashed fury,
of our prey.

4-3 Beach Day

Palm,
towel, sand,
sunscreen, magazine,
beer in,
hand, palm, towel,
white sand, sunscreen,
magazine, beer in,
hand,
swaying,
palm, towel, sand,
toes, sunscreen, magazine,
beer in,
hand,
palm, towel, toes,
white sand, sunscreen,
splash.

magazine, beer in hand,
palm, towel, sand,
toes,
waves,
sunscreen, magazine, wind,
beer in,
hand, palm, towel,
sand,
blue sky-

sunscreen, magazine,
beer in hand.

4-2 Tidbit

said Katie calmly to the iguana on the shore,

"Puerto Ricans are not afro-american, or black,
they are Puerto Ricans."

Katie adjusts the folds of her towel, looking
at the iguana intently.

"Rum is made from molasses,
(at least on this island)."

she added as an afterthought,

"cuba libre, means a free cuba,
best served with coke, not pepsi,
officially."

about to pick up her latest copy of Simple Life,
she said

"the fort was attacked four times in four hundred years.
four times."

She shook her head, flipping to page 34
the iguana blinks his eye

(do iguanas blink? this one did.)

"Well." she replied

The iguana closes his eyes.

4-1 Musical Interlude (Snorkel Movement)

Yahoy!
(musical interlude)

cast off from the shore,
head out on the water,
blue to the sky,
which smiles above.

cast off from the shore,
jump into the water,
blue as the sky,
which smiles above.

So many wonders,
colors, and plunders,
treasures of fish,
swimming,
swish-swish.

So many wonders,
colors and plunders,
what more could you wish,
from a BLUE-SKY- DAY
-LIKE THIS!

Yahoy! Yahoy! Yahoy!

Stars on the sea floor,
stars in my hand,
what could be more fun,
than a day spent with,
stars on the sea floor,
stars in my hand,
dots, squares, and white bands,
dots, stripes, and we can,

Yahoy! Yahoy! Yahoy!

cast off from the shore,
head out on the water,
blue to the sky,
which smiles above.

cast off from the shore,
jump into the water,
blue as the sky,
which smiles above.

so many swimmers,
fins, tails, and glimmers,
so many swimmers,
tails, fins, and shimmers,
so many swimmers,
tails, fins, shimmers, and glimmers,
glimmers and shimmers,
fins, tails, and swimmers,
every fish is a winner,
(every swimmer could be dinner!)

what?

Yahoy! Yahoy! Yahoy!
Yahoy! Yahoy! Yahoy!

cast off from the shore,
head out on the water,
blue to the sky,
which smiles above,
miles above,
smiling with love,
above in the blue sky,
a day for you and I.

Yahoy!

03-30 This Is Travel Club

circles on circles,
mowed lawns,
lizards,
pavement is,
HOT,
boxes bright,
orange, blue,
white, poles,
periwinkle,
pavement is,
gates everywhere,
fences,
circles on circles,
tennis courts,
gates,
where is the beach?
this is travel club,
not here,
not here,
blind leading the blind,
it is so HOT,
lawns, lizards,
blue skies,
smack our faces,
backhand, return,
smack, circles
on circles,
flat feet, smack,
the pavement is,
where is the beach?
where is the beach/?
this is travel club,
dirt road,
wandering,
golf carts parking,
dirt road, stalled, then,
wind blowing fierce,
wind blowing sweet,
blue ocean, palms pose,
waves on the feet,
radio playing,
circles upon circles,
blue skies,
sand, towel, nap,
this is travel club.

3-31 Dream Sequence (Run)

they gave me a gun.

I don't know why.
I didn't ask, but

when the children started dying,
they told me to,

run.
so I did.
with the gun,
carrying her over my shoulder,
I don't know,
if she was,
alive,

or not,
I never checked,
I didn't think too,
I just,
ran,

down the rain, dirt trails,
down through the city,
there was me, her,
trails, city streets,
corners,
smoke, me,
and my gun,
hitting my hip,

it was hot.

I was in training,
or at least I thought I was,
they just told me to run,
where I was cool,
it become hot,
binoculars slapping my chest,
I didn't understand,
I didn't have time to understand,

she was heavy,
with green blades whipping around me,
she was so heavy,

golden eagle flies by.

3-29 Three Tequila Floor

The margarita went down first,
silver fish in lime flashing,
then out with the champagne,
of course,
a rose in palm, sparkling,
followed by me, white as the wine,
bottle in hand,
vodka, cranberry,
bed.

3-28 and I was done

and I was done.
the rain came down.
and I was done.
the house felt empty,
no table,
bags packed,
Tater pouting on the carpet,
but,
I was done.

the rain came down,
all around me,
all I could think about,
was the empty house
the rain coming down,
and me,
in this house,
with the rain coming down,
done.