1st Directorial Effort - Danny Boyle

Shallow Grave – Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later)

Three roommates find a suitcase of cash, lots of cash, when their brand new border dies of a drug overdose. What to do? What to do? Why chop up the body, bury it, and keep the money, of course. Temptation and greed have a price, and it’s always a high one to pay, far too high. No exception here. Great character study. (Ewan McGregor, Christopher Eccleston, Kerry Fox)

1st Directorial Effort - Christopher Guest

The Big Picture – Christopher Guest (Waiting For Guffman, Best In Show)

A hilarious jab at Hollywood about a competition-winning film school graduate navigating the business side of the “creative industry”: commercial-minded studio executives, a feeble-looking but terrifying agent supposedly on his side, and his quickly growing ego. Fun performances, especially Martin Short’s turn. (Kevin Bacon, Michael McKean. J.T. Walsh, Teri Hatcher, and Jennifer Jason Leigh)

Asking Who's There?

I never understood the people they show in movies who wake up deep in the night, find their way to the bathroom, hear a noise and go: who’s there?

Do they really want to hear back: Oh, it’s the serial killer you’ve been reading about. You’re tomorrow’s headline.

Let’s face it, either it's friend or foe. If it’s friend, they’ll kindly let you know by gently touching you or whatever. If it’s not, why do you want to now.

As far as I‘m concerned, walk up behind me wth a centuries-old Japanese Samara sword as I‘m stumbling my way to the bathroom and just lop off my head. The beauty of this is all thoughts of being mad at having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night will have vanished.

The lesson here? What you don't know can’t hurt you. It can kill you, but it can’t hurt you.

Thinking About My Life

Lately, I find I’ve been going over my life, wondering about all the things I’ve not done or done but given up. For instance, when’s the last time I made a snow man, when’s the last time I washed under my arms. Stuff like that.

Which naturally lead me to wonder when the last time I built a pile of rocks to the moon. And I realized: Never. I couldn’t believe it. I have NEVER built a pile of rocks to the moon.

So now I’ve added that to my “Things To Do Before I Die” list right after:

Getting a sex change operation and right before having my first sexual episode with a man as a woman.

I’m still tossing around washing under my arms again. Someday, maybe. You never know.

Arm and Leg Pain

I recently developed this pain in my left arm and leg. The pain finally got so bad, I went to the doctor who fixed them up, good as new.

Unfortunately, it cost me an arm and a leg, so I’m worse off than I was when I went in.

(Do you believe I had the nerve to say that? Was that a jeer from the crowd? Just for that...)

I decided to have prosthetics fitted onto the stumps which rectified that – they've come along away with those – but THAT cost me an arm and a leg. So, now here I am limbless, with only one set of prosthetics and out of arms and legs to pay for another set.

If you would lend me and arm and a leg to rectify this, I’d gladly pay you Tuesday. (Wimpy from Popeye reference there)

Remember you brought that on yourself. If you just hadn't jeered.

I Want In On Some Duck Action

I was tearing down a road to Boston – meaning obeying the speed limit in the slow lane – at rush hour, amidst heavy traffic when all of a sudden the row of ducks mom at front, babies in the middle, dad at the rear…or vice versa for mom and dad (I’m not a duck expert, so lay off.)

Every single driver, who wouldn’t even on their most giving day slow for a human, let alone stop, SCREECHED on their brakes. I want in on that duck action. They’re as efficient as a military platoon.

Platoon Sgt: Everyone lne up, eyes forward, look cute and waddle and waddle and waddle.

Platoon Sgt starts singing:

I’m a tiny duck and I don’t care

Ducklings: I’m a tiny duck and I don’t care

Platoon Sgt: Got a bunch of feathers instead of hair

Ducklings: Got a bunch of feathers instead of hair

Platoon Sgt: They won’t hit us for then they’ll find

Ducklings: They won’t hit us for then they’ll find

Platoon Sgt: Our adorable splaterred bodies won't leave their mind

Ducklings: Our adorable splattered bodies won't leave their mind

Platoon Sgt: And waddle and waddle and waddle….

(Okay, so maybe I thought it over too much. Iwas bored, all right? Jeesh)

Concert Ticket Prices

I knew concert were getting…well, pricey, to be kind about the matter. But a friend just told me the last time The Rolling Stones came around, the good seats cost $450. That’s right FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS.

Plain and simple, for that kind of money, I expect sex. That money should definitely be a package deal: a concert and sexual act. And I don’t mean with a nice lady of the evening. I mean with a band member.

Now, I’m a heterosexual man, but I don’t care. After the show one of The Rolling Stones will be engaging in some form of copulation with me…and NO, Charlie Watts doesn’t count.

If not sex, they better be over my house at some point to do some yard work or help me clean out the garage.

$450. That’s insanity….except I guess it’s not because people paid it.

People Lacking Self-awareness

I love people who lack self-awareness, like a man who says…

Call me a chauvinist if you want, but woman should have to walk around naked…only the good looking ones, of course.

It’s like: Thanks, I think I will, since that’s more or less Webster’s definition of it.

Wile E. Coyote & The Road Runner

Many people say they’d like to be him because he can fall two thousand feet and have a giant boulder land on him and walk away without a scratch. Me, I’d rather have his endless bankroll.

Where does he get all the money to pay for all those ACME inventions?
I mean, he purchases at least two an episode. Maybe he sells The Road Runner the cocaine he’s obviously on.

If I were Wile – yes, Wile and I are on a first name basis, jealous? – I’d just buy a thin piece of piano wire, string it across the road just before the food he’s always laying down, so that when that arrogant ass Road Runner speeds along, before he can stop, eat your food, waggle his tongue at you, say BEEP, BEEP and take off, the wire will slice through that thin little neck of that narcasstic creep and then I’d pretty much skull f—k him. (This is only if I were Wile. I wouldn’t do anything to his skull personally. He’s the weirdo. Not me.)

You know the saying...

You'd lose your head if it weren't attached to your shoulders.

I was thinking:

Wouldn't everyone?

Great TV Moment - Gilligan's Island

So, here are the castaways, marooned on a desert isle after what was supposed to be a three-hour tour around Hawaii. Man, talk about getting lost. The storm was bad, sure, but a TOUR usually consists of hugging the coast and showing sights like Pearl Harbor, maybe a volcano.

So, anyway, here they are marooned for a while now – they already have the bamboo cars and the oven that cooks those delicious Coconut Cream pies – and Mr. Howell hears on the radio, which he luckily turned on just in time, that his finances back home are in serious trouble, so he offers ONE MILLION DOLLARS to whoever comes up with an idea to get them off the island.

Well, the Gilligan, Skipper, Ginger…and the rest…actually I think the Professor and Marianne’s agents leveraged their full names by now. Point is they all set diligently about finding a way off, really throwing themselves into Project: Get Of Island.

Personally, I think JUST GETTING OFF THE ISLAND would be all the incentive you'd need, but apparently they needed monetary compensation.

Men and God

Any man who refers to god as a woman is trying to get laid. It's that simple.

College Roommate Lawyer Conversation

Here’s a conversation I had with a roommate when we were nearing college graduation and about to be propelled headlong into the world.

ROOMMATE:

I can’t believe it’s already here. So strange. Four years. Already. It makes you think. Makes me think. And I have been. A lot. I’m going to law school. I know. You’re thinking ‘he’s changed majors a couple times, he’s doesn’t know what he wants’. I admit it. I was confused, had absolutely NO CLUE what I wanted, but how could I? We were eighteen when we got here. How am I supposed to know at that age? How is anyone supposed to know?

But this last year, turning to criminal law, fully declaring it my major? This-is-what-it-will-say-on-my-diploma declaring it, mind you? Now, that’s commitment. That right there is commitment. A commitment I was finally fully prepared to make and a commitment I’m more than prepared to keep in the future. Don’t bother saying it. The work involved. Hard, hard work. That doesn’t sound like me. The thing is, when you find out what you want in life, what you truly want, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY, you will work hard, harder than is needed even...and the amazing thing? It won’t feel like work. Not even once.

Now, I know you’re not there yet. You’re uncertain. A bit lost. I promise I’m not saying what I’m saying to point out this fact to you. I’m simply saying it because it’s true, because when you realize what you’re going to do with your life, you just want to say it out loud. And since you’re my best friend, I wanted to say it out loud to you first.

I’m gonna be a lawyer. I’M GON-NA BE A LAW-YER.

Anyway, here’s the joint.

AND END SCENE

One guess on whether or not he became a lawyer.

If The World Stopped Turning...

If the world suddenly stopped turning, would we hear a SCREECH?

A Cool Valedictorian Speech

First making you aware I could have been valedictorian if I even remotely tried but I didn't want to be, yadda yadda to stroke my fragile ego, I will now state what I wish just one valedictorian would say at the end of their speech.
---------
Fellow graduates, I now would like to break tradition with all valedictorians before who have told you as we move forward to aim high for if you fall then at least you can say you reached for the stars and urge you in the strongest terms possible to aim for a building no higher than two stories for then if you fall, you'll most likely just break your legs instead of being splattered all over the street in some unidentifiable mess like so much road kill.
-----
That, to me, would be one cool valedictorian.

The Whispering Wind

If the whispering wind had voice mail, would its outgoing message just be the sound of the whispering wind?

It's October Again...

Well it’s October again. Hard to believe we’re in our fourth month of the Christmas Season.

But seriously…wouldn’t it by now just be easier to tell people when we’re NOT in Christmas Season.

Seeing as this is the month of Halloween, I have done my part by putting out a couple scarecrows on the lawn and in the bushes. I don’t know if it’ll scare people, but it sure is scaring the crap out of me.

I happen to look out the window at night, I see these silhouettes and a little spooked, wonder who the hell’s standing there on my lawn and in my bushes. And then of course I realize it’s just the scarecrows I placed there…but I’m not losing my mind.

I think I’m a little jumpy because it’s football season again, which means all the high school kids are coming round and throwing toilet paper in football players trees and writing with marker on cars, ‘we’re #1’ and such things.

Well, except my car. Nope. On my car, the person chose to draw a penis. Seeing it, I could only think of one thing obviously.

This is one talented person is and hope they pursue a career in this creative field.

So, if you’re tuning in – you know who you are – please attempt to attend a design school.

Hal, The Lost Turkey

I have turkeys come to my backyard a lot. In fact I have a lot of animals. Did I tell you about the Push Me, Pull You and the ruined pictures that would have brought me millions? Oh, I did.

So, anyway, there are always a lot together, but one day, I hear this heartbreaking – and I mean truly heartbreaking - frantic Gobble Gobble, and I run to my back window to see this lone turkey running from backyard to backyard and then turning and running back across the backyards he's arleady run across, his wings aflutter and his neck bobbing back and forth and forth and back. I’m no turkey but fear is fear. He had lost his group.

But then I started thinking: Maybe he’s a jerk. A jerk turkey. And the leader of the pack – I could tell because he had the coolest car – one day says:

Hal - caus his name would be Hal - Hal, why don’t you grab point today. We want to cover a lot of ground, so I’ll need you to go way out. Further. Further. Further.

And as Hal heads off, the leader quietly whispers to the rest of the gang:

And…now.

And they all shuffle off as fast as they can but as quiet as they can on their tippy claws and hide behind a bunch of trees and were hiding nearby that day I saw Hal running frantically back and forth.

I’m sure at least some of the gang would start to break at the sight and sound, but the leader would remain strong and remind them that Hal’s an asshole. Always has been. Just gobbling all the time over nothing important. Oh, the other day you thought you found a worm but it turned out to be a stick.

Who gives a crap?!! Plus, he’s been telling the story since it happened the other day. AND THIS IS JUST ONE EXAMPLE!! Now, I’m a fair turkey. You say you want him back in, just raise a wing and he’s back in.

And no one does. And so they move off, leaving Hal to gobble on, probably later kicking stones and singing Why AM I Such A Misfit? with Hermie The Dentist from Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.

Then again, most likely it was just a very terrified turkey that got lost and was trying to find his way home.

Woodpeckers

I have woodpeckers. Take a guess why they’re called that?

Living in an area essentially surrounded by woods, I actually have a lot of animals:

The woodpecker as I mentioned – I did so mention it, just look at the first sentence. Fine, I wrote it, didn’t mention it. Happy? – I also have many various and interesting feathered compadres offering a rainbow of colors, chipmunks, turkeys, deer (they’re so awesome) and once even a Push Me Pull You.

If those pictures I took of it hadn’t been ruined, I can’t tell you the mullah that would have been flowing in. (You’re obviously my favorites. I’ve never used the word ‘Mullah’ before. I saved it just for you. No need to thank me….or call me those names. You kiss your mother with that keyboard? See how 21st century I am.)

All right, fine. The woodpeckers.

You just suddenly hear this sound like a jackhammer, but get a feeling this is not a town worker who mistook your house for the street. But, it’s a loud, rat-a-tat-tat…and NEVER STOPS.

And when you go out to chase them off, they do not go gently into that good…well, since it’s day when they come, I realize the whole Dylan Thomas thing doesn’t work. They don’t leave is the gist. It was after using such ominous words as ‘Hyah’ and ‘skedaddle’, that I knew they don’t scare. So what does one do who cannot solve a situation with words, harsh though they are?

Why they run at them SCREAMING and flapping their arms – okay, I'm talking about me – until the woodpecker's laughing so hard, it flies off, eager to tell the other peckers – this probably is a time the full name is required as certain minds (such as mine) might find an innuendo - tell the other woodpeckers what endless entertainment humans provide. Okay, this human.

Anyway, watching them is jawdropping fascinating: They literally sit there and SMASH their heads into your outside wall. Repeatedly. And quickly. Very quickly. Very, very quickly. Very, very…okay, you get the point.

I immediately realized why they made the cartoon character Woody The Woodpecker BATSHIT INSANE (not to mix animals). Because he would be. And that creepy, out of control laugh of his, the look in his eyes. But, you use your head for a jackhammer, what do you expect? Not that I blame him. The dice of life are thrown. His came up woodpecker. Whatta you gonna do? I’ll tell you: Not grab a beer with him.

Now Daffy the Duck I’d grab a beer with. He’s always a bit slow on the uptake, the shortcuts he attempts aren’t very well planned out, but he means well and grabbing a beer or two to hear the tales I haven’t seen on TV WILL NOT end with me being carted off to jail.

Boy, I wish I had those pictures of the Push Me Pull You.

Dream Interpretation

I've been having these strange dreams lately. You know how dreams are, the whole world seems to be contained in them, the answer to everything, the key to life itself...

...if only you could understand the vague symbols and clues. If only...

Well, one morning after having yet another series of these dreams tormenting me with their vague clues, I went out and bought a book on Dream Interpretation.

And I cannot begin to tell you the flood of relief that washed over and through me and out of me (one of those must fit the use of the word flood).

For there it was: my vague, vague, seamingly meaingless and indescipherable symbols of a pair of breasts and a vagina actually means I have a deeply subconscious longing for geometric shapes.

Why The Chicken Cross The Road

I have to wonder with the decades old debate as to why the chicken crossed the road, has anyone ever bothered to just ask the chicken?

If Frosty Were My Friend...

If Frosty were my friend, my entire life would fall apart.

I'd come home from work, drop my briefcase, absently pat my kid whose name I've forgotten, give a quick, emotionless, perfunctary kiss to the wife, whatever the hell her name is and inform them I'll be out back conversing with our TALKING SNOWMAN. You know, the snowman that TALKS.

My end of the conversation would probably consist of no more than 'What else?' You know, so I can listen to the TALKING SNOWMAN. You know, the snowman THAT TALKS.

Then probably soon afterward, I'd have no briefcase to drop, no kid to absently pat on the head, and no wife to unemotionally kiss because they'd all left me. And they'd probably be gone for awhile before I noticed, made aware of their absence by a check for severance pay and papers suing me for divorce for speaking with a TALKING SNOWMAN. You know, a snowman THAT CAN TALK.

Frosty'd probably ask me about it then but I'd still just say, 'What else?'

Then when spring came and the weather warmed, I'd probably buy Frosty a cold room, much better than a meat locker, like a house, depleting my remaining resources.

Then probably I'd make a mistake and set the temperature too low even for Frosty and he'd catch a cold.

I'd probably then buy him some grape flavored cough syrup and as I poured it into his mouth, I’d watch as it spread through his entire body making him look like a giant grape Italian Ice.

And then I'd probably eat him, every last snowflake, and throw the magic hat in the trash.

Yep, that's what I'd probably do...

...if Frosty were my friend.

Fearless

Fearless

After surviving a horrific airplane crash in which he remained calm in the face of the panic and fear surrounding him, Bridges helps a mother (Perez) who lost her baby in the crash. With his fearlessness quickly moving beyond safe into dangerous, as he believes he is untouchable to normal human events - such a walking across busy highways and standing on building ledges - Bridges marriage (to Rossellini) begins to fall apart. Only by realizing the laws of human frailty apply to him will Bridges be truly alive again and his marriage saved. Intricate, complex work by Bridges.

Watch for an excellent Tom Hulce (Animal House, Amadeus) as a sleazy lawyer with a catch phrase: I know, I’m bad…It doesn't stop him...and great performances by Rosie Perez, Isabella Rossellini, and John Turturro as a psychiatrist the airline hires.

Scorcese's Bringing Out The Dead

Bringing Out The Dead

A few days in the cyclone existence of a New York paramedic (Nicholas Cage) who’s in the final stages of burn out due to lack of sleep, one too many severely injured people, and the memory of a young woman he couldn’t save. Frenzied camera work, editing, and perfectly chosen songs capture the feel perfectly. The hallucinogenic drug sequence Cage suffers through after taking a pill that was supposed to help him sleep is worth the rental alone. Based on a Joe Conway novel (FYI: Great Book, too). Adapted by Paul Schrader.

Sea Of Love

Sea Of Love – Detective Frank Keller (Pacino) is stumbling through a whale of a mid-life crisis: recently divorced, taking care of his widower father, married to his job, all with an alcohol-soaked brain, which really prevents him from dealing with any of this at all, let alone correctly, until one night he meets and falls in love with a kind, caring divorced mother (Barkin) he met through a personal ad.

Trouble is she may be the serial killer who’s been offing guys placing ads. More trouble, he only met her on a sting operation, attempting to find the killer and pretends he’s not a cop. Pacino is exceptional at conveying every combination of emotions a man in this situation would be going through.

Watch for the intense scene where Pacino stares down two well-dressed hoods that enter Barkin’s shoe store. Shades of Michael Corrleone. Great acting all around with a huge nod to Richard Jenkins as the cop who married Keller's ex-wife and a terrific script by Richard Price. (Starring Al Pacino, Ellen Barkin, John Goodman.)

We Stab At Each Other

we stab at each other
with disbelieving eyes
that reveal like a mirror
a hidden disguise

of casual silks
that conceal the heart
from its river of trees
when the gunner cries start

absorbing instead the prison
that is programmed in the head
by designs of wounding words
that tie our dreams up in a bed

and the damage of distant deeds
planted deep inside the bone
feeling more afraid to reach
than we are to be alone

‘til Heaven gives a gift
declared as a love that’s true
as we stab at them with disbelieving eyes
asking why should I believe in you

The Morning Sun

The morning sun reached down her legs
Imprisoning in corners the dark
Wrapped her fingers inside my head
And gave me a heart

She swept across the deep, green fields
Turned bad seeds into flowers
Kindly caressed the different children
Dancing ‘neath her showers

In afternoon, she shouldered me
Underneath the lazy tree
Called me on in my mind’s eye
Humbly closer to the sea

Come evening when she said goodbye
As paintings on the horizon
I asked myself for one brief moment
Will I see her again

Then I shrugged off thoughts of all tomorrows
‘Cause today I begin to start
For she wrapped a dream inside my head
And gave me a heart

An Evening At Logan Airport

An Evening at Logan

relieved of its
obligations,
the sun ran
from the night,
melting into a
mountain.
the last
of the boats
was now
tucked in
and sleeping
to the swaying
lullaby of the
lilting waves.
the houses,
each in turn,
lit their candles
like some
mysterious vigil
in the hills,
and there
in the distance,
just over
the shoulder
of the moon,
I could see
the pin-holes
in the night
growing like fires
from the black,
longing, wanting,
hoping,
if only this
once more,
to see their
homes again.

The Garden Of Colors

the morning of wonder opened its eyes
and fell silent, a hush of whispers swirling
in awe at the sight of passion.

a lost rider of intent passing,
his faithful horse galloping
ever onward, ever forward
trailing lilting fires of freedom,
a blushing sun of lace,
its rays inscribing the sky.
bluebirds drew circles,
offering their throats
in choirs of hope:
may your journey be one of welcome.

many moons of midnight
the rider had confided in.
many ponds of shimmering starlight
his horse, Symphony, had drunk from.
weary, oh so weary,
the words had, more than one time,
slipped from his tongue and slid off his sighs,
always encountering, however,
a simple sign of god’s compelling
and subtle existence:
the wilderness in the sky,
ripened fruit falling from a branch,
a second of happiness,
the strange discovery of things known
but never seen,
indelible children frozen in laughter.

and then, at the moment when
his weariness lunged, willful in its want,
he saw, at long last, what he had searched
so long for:

the garden of colors.

her flowers blossoming into questions
her grasses reaching out in curiosity
her breeze singing tangled songs from tops of trees
her heart flowing like wishing streams through existence
an unknown excitement for life illuminating all shadows
uncovering every corner of every corner
revealing her deepest of secrets
sacred and sincere:

a rose
so frail, so vulnerable
the only gift she owns to advance,
her painted petals, delicate
and without armor,
releasing themselves,
at long last, to the wind
in favor of one intoxicating breath.

the horse knelt and bowed,
humbled and honored,
his worn and tattered lungs
born anew.
the rider, head down, dismounted
and stepped slowly to the gates.
bending to his knees, he removed his gloves
and brushed his fingers,
cut and callused, across the allowing bars
and spoke,
his voice a gentle quiver
his words the strange rush of truth.
“i will be the source of no harm.
i have traveled this distance
seeking only an instant of grace,
and then, if it is your desire
i shall take my leave.
please, if you will,
share with me your dreams.”

cradling his head to his knees,
he waited, peaceful and patient.
a vine suddenly found its way forth
and wrapped and wound itself around a sign,
mystical, it seemed, in its creation.
PARADISE, it calmly called,
deeming no need for extravagance.
with one pull, then, the sign broke back
and the gates, ancient and eternal,
returned from their slumber
and parted.

the rider unwrapped himself
and retrieved his gloves,
caressing his loyal horse’s mane.
and then, fully forward, with weary eyes now warm,
he released Symphony’s reigns

and slow but certain of step,
they walked inside…

…as the gates yawned, once again, and closed.

The Past's Only Wish

the past's only wish
is to be left alone
oh, how free the soul

that grants it

I Can Feel Me Burning

i can feel me burning
i can feel me burning
twisting and turning
longing and yearning
straining and blaming
me for everything
while chaining me to
nothing
string me up to the
fire in the ring
oh, that breathless
air of fire
and chant and sing
godlike
as you watch
my insides churning
i can feel me burning

Fire Consumes Itself

fire
consumes
itself
as it
hungers for
eternity
dividing into
rivers of
will
strangely
pure
and
sensitive
as it
slithers and
sleeks
searching
for
everything
that is
wanting only
to
touch
every edge
of the
world
with
its
tongue

The Forever Angels

down in the darkest alleys
where the broken people sleep
with their dreams tucked tight in pocket
for desire’s fool to keep

the forever angels wander
through streets lit by nighttime shadows
while the glass of silence is cut with cries
that haunt as hollow echoes

tossed bread crumbs on a too familiar path
that lead to a man twining rope
as the angels pause upon his beautiful sadness
before they whisper their three words of hope

never give up

The Dawn Of A Poem

The dawn of a poem
The birth of a morn
The fire of a sky
The worth of a storm

A singular need
A man on the road
A house full of warmth
A feeling to hold

The dream of a flight
The strength of a dove
The creation of night
The power of love

A sleepy, little lane
A small, tiny town
A hearth full of embers
No one out there alone

Humorous Poem...in theory

My mother’s a teacher
My father’s a preacher
My sister wants to become a nun

When I’m ‘neath the steeple
Greeting the people
Dad says I’m his good little son

He gives me his lessons
Says fun ain’t worth messin’ with
You get that through your head

I can just see his face
And how many times he’d say grace
If he found the magazines under my bed

Miss January likes a good book
Miss February likes to sew and cook
Miss March is into 60’s rock ‘n’ roll

I can’t wait for the next one
It may be the best one
I won’t stop ‘til I collect them all

I confess to you Father
For I would much rather
Tell you than my own

I don’t know where to begin
But I’ve committed a big sin
For I’ve been having fun when I’m alone

I told him my story
In all of its glory
Imagining his horrored look

But he just said, “Son don’t you be sad
For this is your real dad
And Miss March is the one
Who likes to cook”

September Slid In Easy

September slid in easy
On the crispness of its breeze
Bringing the weather that will shortly
Change the color of the leaves

Into artistic expressions
Of tiny rainbows against the sky
Until they fall like gentle tears
Into winter’s sleepy lullaby

The animals have begun their gathering
In honor of this coming song
And the way my cat’s been behaving
I fear it may not be long

But for now we have September
And its chance for one last look
At the memories that surround us
Before we place them in a book

The Quietness Of The Moment

The quietness
Of the moment
Is what I’m
Looking for

The day the Fall
Begins to blow
The morning the rain
Starts to pour

With both of us
Under it
Captured
Within it

Photographed
Like permanence
Becoming us a memory
And a life

To begin

I Just Bought The Moonlight For You

in the smoky remains of the world before last call
where scented candles burn their flames into pictures on the walls
you stole a glance my way before starting to leave
but I believe you would have stopped if you only knew
I just bought the moonlight for you

I ran for the exit, turned my collar to the rain
saw your scarf adrift on Bourbon Street, damp stripes of candy cane
the neon signs reflected like halos from the sky
or were they just the tears you cried because you knew
I just bought the moonlight for you

I finally found you curled up in the corner of the docks
as lightning tore the night and waves sought vengeance on the rocks
you listened for orphaned secrets abandoned to the sea
much too carefully for me to be certain if you knew
I just bought the moonlight for you

I slipped my hand in your hand, draped your scarf of candy cane
wasn't sure if I saw tears of joy or sorrow or simply droplets of rain
you kissed me quickly and disappeared into my mind
leaving me to wonder all this time would you have stayed
or did you go because you knew

I just bought the moonlight for you

It All Happened Long Ago

do you remember
deep in December
when the snow began to fall

Santa was coming
and like children we were running
as I hung your stocking on my wall

we ventured into the night
guided by candlelight
finally spreading our arms into wings

angels forming
‘neath the cotton ball storm
as the carolers started to sing

I thought that night would never end
for that was the time when
I first found myself a friend
I knew you were my friend

do you recall
the colorful Fall
when the rainbows dripped on the leaves

an over friendly sun
was having some fun
with the remaining birds in the trees

as we walked along
humming their song
into a kaleidoscope waterfall

and I swear that our eyes
became hypnotized
as we stared in wonder of it all

we spoke of love and talked of fate
walking down the painted paths
and that was our first date
yes, that was our first date

oh, the spell I was under
that magical Summer
when the sun scattered glass across the sea

and a big, yellow moon
shone on the sand dune
as a fire raged in mystery

I stared up at the sky
at her diamond eyes
and made a wish for possibility

and the very next day
serenaded by waves
I found the gift that heaven sent for me

I still can see that special place
the corner ice cream shop
where I first saw your face
first saw your pretty face

when I look at you now
I can’t believe that it’s so
for it feels like yesterday
but it was long ago

it all happened long ago

The Sun Burst From Her Bed

the sun burst from her bed
alive with energy
showering welcome wishes
on the morn,
the animals still sifting
pictures of the diamond night.
peeking through a hole
I left growing in my shade
she crawled upon my crumpled
sheets
resting a moment,
allowing me the remains
of one final dream.
succumbing to curiosity
she leapt from my bed
wandering the uncertain
mysteries of my room,
investigating every unknown corner.
the dark,
fearing her probing fingers
fled to the closet
waiting for night to plan his escape.
the foggy castles of my mind
now dissipating
my entire being was illuminated,
disbelieving as my eyes were
to be entitled to heaven’s wings.
and then in an instant,
a snapshot of glory
the moon took center stage
bowing to the sun for her
graceful exit,
dissolving into infinity,
striking a match
to the curtain of night,
leaving a coloring book
of flames
for the moon
to regard his own luminescence,
ready herself to tie up her rays
and lay down again
imagining the new
discoveries
that await her
come tomorrow

Labor Day

the ocean called for me
this morning
her wet hands longing
and desperate
collapsing on the
shore,
her voice
still sweetly hushed
though tinged now
with loss
as she gasped
her last breath
of summer,
wishing
another sun
would tan
her spiked back
with sequin
necklaces

eager for
attachment
she spread
her webbed fingers,
surrounding me,
imprisoning
my ankles,
willing me closer,
her tongues
a friendly dog,
her kisses
kind gestures of
affection,
her sadness
wordless and
warm,
begging
as she was
for me to stay
if just
a moment’s reward,
the final
remains
of a
fairy tale
that was

but I
could only offer
my footprints
as they made
their way
one final time
back over the dunes

I Wish I Could Unzip Us

I wish I could
unzip us
and go back to
the place we're
destined to go
and know each other
freely
without bodies
restraint

If I Were Given A Chance To See

If I were given the chance to see
The person I will finally come to be
Would I look so as not to fail
Or want to wonder if I’m on my trail

for sometimes it’s hard riding your destiny
uncertain as a wave upon the sea
spinning circles inside of my mind
whether to turn back or let it unwind

as the sky plays catch with the sun and moon
like some carnival ride or two pinholed-balloons
I may never know when I’m on my path
So I guess I’ll just search for the rainbows

and have myself a laugh

Ever hopeful for a new morn
- no matter what it holds

You Slink Inside The Hole

you slink inside the hole
descending the day
leaving only night
and carve your way
slowly, decidedly
through the canyons
carnivorously devouring
all that lies in front
not like a mole
but more like all
beings that have entered
you search through yourself
as you sleek
hoping for a remedy
and then as you feel you
rise from your tomb
you suddenly see your thoughts
your mind
fiercely unexpected
it lies before you
how will you confront yourself
how will you understand
for who’s the mirror and whose the man
. . .or is it just forget it until my sands
are done

The Leaves Have All Become Broken...

the leaves have all become broken
arthritis ridden, angst and hidden
and fallen like some meaningless star
as it streaks across the sky
what strikes me is how lonesome they seem
how misunderstood they feel as if no one knows
I realize how incredible it grows
as I watch them live and die
before my eyes
but still I question and long
for the ultimate knowledge as to why
and so they continue to crumble
as I think these intimate thoughts
strangling for belief as I watch one leaf
swollen and torn and ready
land and die amongst the grass
see, everyone condemns a path of followers
those who hope to attain as much and be forgiven
for the sins it took to gain such insight
and though most swallow a pill and damage their will
think not of the sorrow for who knows tomorrow
just minds that think it’s so
so let it go
until the time you’re told to end
and then look back into your days
and the moment you first found a friend
. . .and then begin

We're Searching For Our Destiny

we’re searching for our destiny
over two thousand years blown through the sail
by star we’ll guide the uncharted sea
with trusting heart we’ll never fail

to navigate the mysteries
pulsing through the veins of time
and soar as birds that circle the seas
with every new sun that starts to shine

we’ll cut and carve through frozen night
in pursuit of our true home
discovering the path of heaven’s light
is the one never walked alone

so if technology should burn the sea
turning mystic angels into robots
I hope you sudden strangers realize the key
forever dwells in our trusting hearts

Touch My Palm

touch my palm
open it
spread your fingers
around
feel it

question my mind
discover it
stagger at its
inconsistencies
reveal it

wake up
in the morning
believing, feeling sun-like
shedding dreams
like its rays

explore and become
when you leave your eyes
and take a step
that’s always new
like a baby’s first moment

end the day’s trial
inside your heart
hopeful and serene
and softly slip
into a peaceful dream

til you wake up
and begin again
brand new
tomorrow

Pieces

pieces

the sun that wakes the morning
leaves the moon without a throne
as we walk into a new day
chip off pieces and collect stones

we leave ourselves behind us
as we take others onto foreign lands
for a person is never the same again
after being touched by another's hand

so the sun that rose this dawn
finds me wandering down a path
with an eye back on you people
for how we shared ourselves a laugh

and somewhere off in the distance
a heavenly light has shone
and from there we all look the same
as we chip off pieces and collect stones

I Saw An Old Man...

I saw an old man
with three legs
and a mind so full
like a cup.
He opened up
and accepted
and never expected
a thing.
I’m sure he met women
he bedded
and met a little girl
he wedded
and he never regretted
felt enough wasn’t enough.
Now he’s bent and crooked
and broken
just like the road
he traveled,
and in the end
he discovers
It’s a mystery
that can’t be
unraveled.

Butterdrop Moon

I see you beneath the diamonds
poking holes in the summer night
a drop of butter from the midnight moon
splashing gentle in your eye

you wish you were tall like the sun
so you could stick your hand inside that moon
and taste its sweetness on your tongue
maybe make your heart a birthday balloon

but the scene plays crystal on the sleeping lake
though you wash it away with a stone
a door always closing on a lonely tear
a wind forever whispering, ‘you are alone’

and so you reach for that melting moon
trying to tear down the silken skies
and live inside those drops of butter
until the truth or the memories die

so you can swim in that sleeping lake
and see only days of future arise
and wish upon those distant diamonds
as if they’re staring into your eyes

enchanting you into a dream
floating freely in the shimmering skies
as you slip inside that butterdrop moon
and become its sympathetic eyes

Heroin's Corners

Heroin’s Corners
(the horrors of drug use)

a steel and hammer wail of an oddly broken fire
flickers visions on the brick walls of the night
the sewers echo roars of dissonant lion storms
stealing life from the arrows of the light

stabbing at the dragons with your needles and your spoons
sharks swimming through the middle of your head
dampened are the dream-holes loosed as sweat upon your brow
as you forget you are of the living and of the dead

tired of the pictures in the puddles of your mind
you send shivers through the truths caught in their eyes
bending over steepled-hands to strike another match
dissolving into a field of butterflies

plant roses in the blood of the pin pricks of your crown
'til you bleed red petals of hope from your palms
blooming 'tween two necks of cracked and cobbled roads
and the junkie holes that burrow in your arms

freedom will be waiting as the diamonds of the sky
and the fingers of the sun that silk the morn
beckoning you back to the one you arrived to be
a soul reaching for the world, newly born

You've Got Me Listening...

you’ve got me listening for your breath in the wind
I swore I would never be like this again

my heart was old and broken and done
when you walked in with the morning sun
and showed me how to stop and begin
so now I’m listening for your breath in the wind

I knew a girl once who was nothing but smiles
for her I would have walked a million miles
I remember she smiled straight from the start
and how she smiled as she broke my heart

but you came along and salvaged me
like treasure from a ship buried at sea
you held me in your hand and brushed off the dirt
and held me in your arms and loved away the hurt

you showed me new things I never thought grew
and taught me old things I already knew
so where are you now and where have you been
you’ve got me listening for your breath in the wind

The Art Gallery

The Art Gallery

Look at the pictures
In the halls
Hanging like nooses
On the walls

Sad is their smile
Eyes forgiving but unsure
Longing for another turn
Did my life really occur?

Baby is the infant, now
Small inside his boots
Feet bigger as his shoes are bronzed
And the camera continues to shoot

Hopeful inside his young
Discovering the difference
“Oh, my god, I’m a boy,” he says
“And I’ll have to climb her fence”

Brain is the moment
Twisted, the tousle sought
“Oh, my god, there are feelings in her body
Who would have ever thought?”

Ring, now, on the finger
Unsure on the face
“Welcome,” says the cut of the cake
“To the human race”

Growing is her stomach
Harried is his man
She says, “You don’t care”
He says, “No, you don’t understand”

Three of them, now, the picture
Days always ever changing
No, that conflicts with my schedule
Once again, we’re rearranging

Oh, my god, she’s walking
Soon she’ll be asking to cross the street
What on earth is that front door bell?
Oh, it’s a boy she’s happened to meet

High school, now, the graduation
Wait! Has college really passed?
She’s living on her own, now?!
I guess I knew it wouldn’t last

I’ll be two generation begun, you say
Gosh, I think I feel it moving
There’s something about this that’s discovered me
And, I somehow find it soothing

So now, it’s you and me and each other
And a chance to look back on our day
And the past we left in frames of mirrors
And this camera to make it stay

I love you beyond this dawn we exist in
Back to the days we first became one

The camera clicks its evolution
Slow inside its turn
Allowing, though, just one last kiss
And only a moment to reflect on
What they did or did not learn

Ever slower, now, as they
Long for each other
Look at each other
Smile for each other
Hold each other
Meld into each other
And become one

No regrets
No sorrows
No wishes hovering over
The grassy fields
For times otherwise spent

Just this moment
And its behind
And back
Together in its
Beauty

My
How ancient
The picture grows
When it first begins
Tomorrow
And, now
On this day
Begins to hang
On a wall