Lifetime warranty


Limited priorities


Act now to perceive


Gypsy-O-Matic cremation


Pick of the litter


Functioning puppeteers


Paraphernalia Big Mac


Tullamore Dew straight


So do not pass go

Keep shopping

Or call a thug


Any fucking thug


In the Republic of Moi


Mao knew Ma Mao




Velocity’s errant gas

Mark it

Certain as imitations


Prehensile tails woven

Bones spin

Mexican Daylight Savings


To work religion

God is

In the details of Adam


Time bombs atoms

No one knows

Sleeping in cold volcanoes


Alice Malice how do

How do you

Jabba a Sasquatch moon


Today only yet maybe

No exceptions

Just pull my daisy


Get a new view into

Blue balls

Check your mirror


Little loser mustache

Nodding out

Flash your coat open


Your flask is dry

Channel 9

Updates and exclusions


Shit for brains

Who cares

Why the molecules dance


Like Isadora Mozart

Tripping over

Trump’s Saturday toupee


Fallen towers empower

Homeless vets

Slipping into dumpsters


Contemplating shit

And wiping

Coffee grounds off


Half-eaten jelly donuts


Fresh or stale as


Yesterday’s fad


The fine and dandy


Before the bell calibrate

Your lip

Sting like a butterfly


Mumble bumble bees

A good punch

Tastes real as Muhammad Ali

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment



Did you want to see him?

I mean if you want to see him,

this is your last chance.

They’re cremating him today.

I just thought you might want to

see him, but it doesn’t matter —

I mean it’s up to you. If you do,

we’ll have them hold off until you can

get here. If you want, I’ll pick you up.


He rubbed the hand, held it in his hand,

felt the fingers and looked at the palm,

stroked the forehead and the scalp

with his other hand. Look at that mop, he said,

lightly patting the hair, gettin’ a little

thin, but he never lost it.

My friend’s voice was soft, raspy,

a lot like his father’s, now lying covered

on the table: pale, eyes closed.


Pretty amazing, huh? He moved

around the body, touched the other arm,

It’s like he’s sleeping, like he might sit up

and say “What the goddamn hell

are you lookin’ at?” I saw a tear

roll off his cheek and dot the sheet.

He pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket,

wiped his face and blew his nose,

Yeah, he looks like he’s just takin’ a nap.


My friend lifted the sheet, felt

his father’s feet. Feel that, he said, and I did,

my feet feel that cold, sometimes. Don’t yours?

I nodded, brushed the smooth skin

atop the arch of the foot,

noted the tarsal tendons, the thick,

yellow toe nails — my foot,

absent the bulging vein, that liquid

that keeps us on this side of the veil —

holding tight to each other

and staring into the night.


— for Burt

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment

How Does it Feel


Maybe I was more afraid,

more attuned to, or more haunted

by death. Or maybe I was just

more aware of Its presence

each day, more determined

to point out the ghost

elephant in the room.


Maybe it was the assassination

of JFK followed by my grandpa’s

Catholic funeral, my dad’s

conditional surrender to booze . . .

or maybe it was the landscape,

those endless gray days, the harsh

weather, long nights and dark hours.


Maybe it was that brown house

Biff McClain blew his brains out in,

the one my sister rented

just up the hill from our shack.

I stayed with her those nights

her husband worked graveyard,

when my dad was holed-up

at home in a bottle of whiskey.


Maybe It was the perfect scaffold

to hang this melancholy on—

cold, vast, silent, poor, drunk

bodies washing up on the cabin

floor—this hour of nothing, loss

awash in hopeful tears. Maybe

what I feared the most was never

understanding why I loved

so many so much and if


I’d ever live long enough to sing

in this crippled voice

(my old man knew by heart)

those songs of Woody’s and Walt’s

Bobby robbed from the gods—

It’s Okay, Nobody Needs a Name . . .

and It’s Alright Ma,We’re Merely Dying.

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment

the wind cries


have you experienced this

let me stand next to your fire

come come voodoo child

you’re burning yearning with desire


to kiss the sky drivers

bony fingers picking at

tattered bloody flags

flapping feedback from blacks


and blues in this white cartoon

jimi flashing that sly smile

going back to playing his guitar

if 6 turns out to be 9 fine


will you remember me marry

the broken pieces of that

life or whatever you want

to call this rolling of the dice


forty-five years the wind still whispers

softly so hard to get through to you

as the snow blows the sun goes

down do you mind that we don’t know


slow or foxy I rock and roll

electric tones stoned free on lady’s

thighs taking you for another crosstown

ride you know why we don’t mind


miss the wind turning sand to soul

lick it lick it ride the flames blue

light the cracked cosmic sky

screaming sounds I don’t mind


come down jimi play for us awhile

we’re still spinning out of control

around the sun till the voodoo’s done

gone down and your train’s come home

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment


blood moon
















































Posted in Updates | Leave a comment





there’s a wolverine in the basement

two crows on the roof


reminding the devil to trust no one

no god-boy’s burden of proof


since Ulysses ate Prufrock

spat his barnacles on the deck


and Miguel shaved the iceman

scrubbed his toilet groomed his pets


after Joan rebuilt her Buick

parked and tarped under the shed


still my black-assed Irish tongue

licks the ears of the living dead


chosen by the woven letters

selected by the collected trust


my mother remains the beat inside

me swimming my father’s dust


there’s no reason to trust me here

no resurrection of blind hope


that only happens when floating

dying rivers and mining dope


or logging facts regarding senile

black cats and old stags in rut


you’re the daylight fire banking

sleepless nights that kick my butt


who knows how you want justice

what earth kings or heavens send


ghost horses galloping silent

you’re the blooming moon my friend


you are that voice marking my breath

yes you’re the reason I begin


you’ve always helped me ignore

the bullshit always helped me pretend

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment


Neil "Old Man" thanks for keepin me young

Neil “Old Man” thanks for keepin me young

I’m worried about you

Which means I’m worried about me

I’m worried I’m afraid

We will disappear

Flash down that trap door

Or grow old unsure make that blind

Long walk to the electric chair

It isn’t fair the sun

Poisoning you at thirty-nine

Knives hacking at your mask

The inevitable crawling inside

Like Carver like Hugo

You lived high and wide

Chicago shoulders to the wheel

A steely medium weight contender

Plowing bulling a bullet-headed grinder

Cutting through the spin

Of Exxon’s Lily snake oil

Salesmen those shiny distractions

The sound from our throats

A dormant Godworm sleeping

Burrowing into the night we all hold

That universe we’ve forgotten

Those secrets we’re dying to know

So we cling to our scars young

Lions we sing and fight

Whiskey wrestlers bleeding

Tonight’s the Night

Hey hey Shaky

My my Mongo Jay

The undercards the true bards

Will never dive will never cave

It’s better to punch out standing

Let your howling words rave

Hey hey just say what’s on your mind

But never lie

My my little brother

Hey hey big guy keep speakin’ your rock

Rollin’ hearts can never die

Dig in let go push on assume

You know all that exists

Now is you now is me

Neal Cassidy rollin’ down Route 66

Neil Young’s crazy rockin’ horse guitar

Melancholy as me in the free world

My my your eyes meet the sunrise

Count the score today hey hey

I want to love you more than Andre the Giant

But Dick the Bruiser blows me away

Like our collective minds on the page

Your sly Bly haiku dancing me through sage

Swimming with the dogs

In an icy high mountain lake

Symbolic perceptions I keep

Trying to define to reclaim

To conceptualize and vocalize into meaning

Some way to stop this silly seriousness time

My young Powderfingered Brando friend

Time to open your mouth and sing

Open up the Tired Eyes keep on rockin’

Shockin’ Like a Hurricane

Like a Prairie Wind blowin’ me away

Somewhere sacred on a mesa

Where the Camphorweed sways

Where tumbleweeds roll and Creosote grows

Keep on dreamin’ my friend

Cataloguin’ Kerouac’s spontaneous scroll

Loggin’ your Lorca inspired Whitman tomes

Refrains the Ginz would’ve cut off his beard for

Beat-hot blisters and cacti lyrics

Rattlin’ scorpions loose on the free world

Please Man call me if you can

‘Cause I’m worried about you

Which means I’m worried about me

I’m worried I’m afraid

The record’s done played your song is sung

They’re putting the albums away

And I’m afraid I’m a fraud

A mock rocker in my mind

I’m afraid you’re fading away

Leaving me behind Patsy Cline gone

Tell me I’m wrong

Tell me your fire is rust

Tell me to keep on keepin’ on

I don’t want to stop rockin’

Don’t want to stop talkin’

I guess I’m just afraid of stoppin’

I’m afraid of losin’ the beat

Afraid of losin’ my ear the air

That thunder charged ionic

Rarified air plugged into the motion

The notion of being here and not

Scared about losing tomorrow

The next hour or next year

I want you to promise me you’ll be

Here in this poem till I’m gone

So I can come back to your heart

Come back to your songs

The U.S Department of Poetry

Anytime I want anytime I need

Your help to keep on keepin’ on

When the shitstorm rolls in

And the rock won’t roll my way

You’ll be here helping me embrace the day

Holding fast to the deer’s twitching ears

At first light that Guinness poured slow

And sipped with delight the bell to start

The last round of that championship

Fight and know today

That at least not here not now

Not on this page will I be afraid

Of losin’ you or me or anything today

Because today you’re with me

And I’m free to let ‘er rip free to tear it up

Today I can really love my friend

You know love and only love will endure

. . . Keep on rockin’ in the free world


for JimBo Jay & Neil Young

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment

Wastin’ Time


Birds in the swamp

Call to monkeys

In the zoo picking shit

For the audience


And watching you

Nothing else to do

No bones to rattle

No straw bodies to burn


So they roll and rock

In their glass houses

Dream Voodou dancing

Fire and dirt needs


No cross of redemption

No starched hair shirt

No clocks or lists

Exist sittin’ here


At the crossroads

Of whistle and moan

Wastin’ time bayin’ at

The moon lickin’ bones


Otis and Sam tongue

Maia and Mae lounging

Longing not waiting

On clay ships or sin


Making moments music

Under your skin warm

Morning sun pierces

The canopy blue finds


Your buggin’ wings

Bottled and lost again

Horny idler naked white

As a Hoodoo ape-man


Posted in Updates | Leave a comment



It takes guts

to be a bum


It takes balls

to go your own way


To check out

of the game


Refusing to play

is a monk’s life


It is a struggle

to go it alone


Cut off from the pack

the crowd the rest


Who write you off

who shut you out


For taking the risk

that road not taken


They despise you

for defining your life


For controlling time

and claiming freedom


It takes courage to be

a bum a drunk an outcast


The group pities you

and shuns you though


They’re quietly humbled

and resentfully envious


By your choice of

Liberty over comfort


It shames their efforts

to help you back


Into the fold where

none of them want to be

Posted in Updates | Leave a comment






breaking news from Montana

or Mongolia or the Mosquito Coast

we cannot nor must not


travel the main road, an old

two-lane macadam patrolled

by soldiers and tanks, uniformly


against us, so we have no options

nothing else to do but cross this plank

runway, follow its rough-cut slab


boardwalk through the heart of this

forest-jungle, a timber avenue

untrodden, mythic in size, where no one


has dared pass to the foot of its

looming beam-tower, let alone

scale the redwood monolith rising


three hundred feet toward the sun

thick as the Empire State Building

and shouldered by boulders


an insurmountable climb we must

bound and fly like bird-men heroes

there’s no other way, impossible


improbable, the stuff of this dream

back home we admire its ominous

peak a blue-gray stone mystery


this monumental idol awash in squalls

of snow and rain though we don’t know

what it means nor how we scaled it


hiding here to sneak glimpses

from this curtained gable-window

we wonder what happened to the sun


that warmed the grained apron

and how we got here from there

to a different kind of silence, cloudy


no cedar-song on its shadow-side

scale means nothing and everything—yes

those troops are still rolling this way

Posted in Updates | 1 Comment