he knew it all along

it has been many

years since the

juice of my youth

has dried up in my

bones, it has left

them brittle and my

joints stiff. growing

old is my game now.

i have no choice if i

want to play or not.

i walk like a penguin

on ice in the winter,

and i wear a hat to

keep the sun off my

head in the summer.

i never gave much

thought how long

life should be but i

thought there would

be more to it. now

i know. thank god

for love.

you could’ve fooled me

i don’t know when i gave

myself expectations, or

when i let others have

expectations of me. my

generosity has always

been fraudulent. my

sincerity always lacked

goodwill. my compassion

for others is pathetic. there

are no secrets that are

sacred to me. the nonsense

of the stars is a road map for

the thugs without heart.

i wanted to be their majesty.

the caesar of bad boys. i

know life is harder than

death. i have died many

times in my meditation.

the dark shade over my

eyes, and the silence in

my ears. i chant yesterday

is tomorrow, tomorrow is

today and today does not

exist. a single word can be

my prison without windows.

where my fame and fortune

is worth less than a mouthful

of fresh air. if you are a poet

you can expect what my next

line will be. if you’re not a

poet you don’t know what

to expect. i know i don’t.

open casket

the first time i saw

a dead person, alive

and in person i was

12 years old. he was

a year older than me.

he accidently shot

himself while cleaning

his shotgun. i didn’t

know him but said i

did so i could skip

school and go to his

funeral. we filed in

single file through

the front door of

the church. there

he was, right in front

of me in an open

casket. i thought

he looked like a

rubber doll.


some words are

best unspoken.

empty words left

over from a throw

away conversation.

words that should

be removed from

the english language.

others should be

repeated over and

over like a gregorian

chant. like a white

line down the center

of a never ending

highway. an eternal

flame burning in a

hurricane. like a

young boy’s hardon.

sometimes tomorrow

is always next week

with its own burdens,

naked for all to see.

scars hidden inside

fading tattoos.

there are diamonds

hiding amongst

the stars. there

are images and

sensations inside

images and

sensations that

can leave a bed

soaking wet.

there are words

of heaven where

no one can enter,

and words of

hell where no

one can leave.

the verse of

old songs give

birth to the

verse of new

songs, about the

the same full

moon bleeding.

a free lunch

requires sacrifice

of fruit and

the vegetables,

and fresh water

for green tea.

in the meaningful

element of speech

is the promise,

and the assurance

that is realized

from choosing

the perfect word.