The Holding Hound

careening through life in
automobiles,
with a tuna-salad sandwich in my back pocket.
a man breathes -and stops.
the air is hot.
this premature summertime burns his lungs.
though somewhat
willingly.
what can it be helped,
the air is hot.

but somewhere out there, the Maniac just keeps running.
only stops to untie big, tangled balls of rope
and string.

hard water
when it's warm
scratches my throat as it goes down.

cool soft-drinks
seem to soothe me
when the air is hot
and the bottles hiss as the cap is twist and
cherry-cola is worth stopping for.

the sky is cloudless
and blue.
the sun shines down knowingly.
the sky is blue.
I could spend my whole life desaturating blue.

careening through life in
automobiles,
and on
public.
transportation.
the fans hum and motors run
windows wide open,
with an open view of the world.
undo.
rethink.
remind me
of what I'm- waiting for.
am I still waiting for the bus or the train?

there's got to be a better way back home.


careening through life in
automobiles,
with a tuna-salad sandwich in my back pocket.
the air is hot.
ruby tuesday is playing from a car stereo nearby.

Over at the sink

Get my fist stuck in cups but at least I don’t drop dishes.

I rinse twice. Don’t want no soapy silverware…

Bookends and Bedside Tables

welcome, my favorite echo,
welcome to the long way around.
you drip off my fingers like mahogany dew-drops,
crying out to be touched-
or to be felt
in the deep recesses of a cornered heart.
floral patterned imprints on antique silver
touch the edge of the river,
as the sunburst mountains dip into the sky
to taste the cold clouds that gather together-
and let go.
of everything they have ever been

to break away (I think you're you)

you have a desperate need to branch out,

in your thoughts, the words you use,
                                -feel the need to speak,

in the ways you feel.
-the passions that consume you.


                                I can feel it in your repetitive diction.
-your emotional redundancy,

the mannerisms that seem to be becoming,
                                more and more worn out,
                                                        run down-

in need of a change.

your metamorphosis is now.
do not let yourself go,
or change your definitions of you.

                     do not be tempted to simplify
your soul-

or the sexually charged energy that is you,
you are still young,
do with your life what you wish,
                       but be careful of what you might.

we do not toss away our memories so easily-
we do not simply remove our pasts or who we are.

we build upon our foundations, and though to do so,
sometimes we must bury them,
we never let go.
we never give cause to separate ourselves from our root cellars-
lest we need seek momentary escape.
we find our history by looking down- tracing the lines in our hands.

we never denounce them as unnecessary to our character,
or better off without.

we build upon them.
when its okay to hurt.

we two, cluttered people
with too much and not enough all at once

it is time to put things in their place.

it is time for realigning.
rearranging,
without destroying
cleansing, without striping away
the pale yellow paint.
.
-the branched spread out,
but do not leave the oak pillar behind

be kind
to yourself.

do not leave your self behind.





regardless of what happens here,
                           -the way things turn out,
I will remember 
                            with fondness.

Day

The sky is calm, the world-
                         is soft enough.

imprerfect

there's something about the warm hiss of video tape recordings-
reassuring, personified energy in the stylistic fuzz.
it feels like home.

Vaporeon

There is a blue fire in her eyes, 

propane flames, burning,

learning, 

with each new thing they see-