Ask Give Take

Her drought

has run

out of blue and crimson sunset

give me the breaks and she

will grind them.

He and they walk

ask give take

why the fuck not why the fuck so

Let go, let go, breathe and remember to remember to remember to

let go

take toes dipped

in sunlight driven by lust of gold

she stumbles, I catch.

she gives

I grow.




Happy Can Be Hard.

What to write when the time is right

What to write when it is shinning

What to type when I am on and tight

What to say when it is okay

What to do when your fine with you

You’ve lost your anger token

I’ll ask you this and you may ask too

What about happy

 is so hard to use?



Taken in small sips of sound.

Melody given to me…I breathe

I take it in in small sips of sound…sip…sip….feel and feel again

taken to another time with the turn

of the phrase and the moan

of the violin stringed monster

of love and honor.


Tonight I take in my own mind and call it


just fine

by me


like I listen to the song I listen

to the melody of me

turn on tune.

Turn on.

Tongue of the wrong one.

The crick cracked

sidewalk leading to the giant

neon god of commercial


It glares in heat

to cling

to streets of forbidden greatness

let out of the brain in garbled sounds of CHRISTmas

now led by the sled of the FAT man

Slurps of eggnog

left on the corners of lips

gathering to make

milk webs as they talk of schemes and dreams of weight loss

to get normal so get this shit right

fit into the ever changing puzzle made for all…hold

the tongue of the wrong one, with a bottle dressed in paper and a hand out.





“What  you think of me I cannot take,” the bull whispers to the goat.  “You find me too big and brutish with wisdom and I find you grumpy and brittle with anger.”

“You disgust me!” the goat yells back, pieces of can escaping from his mouth. “Why won’t you just love me?”

“Why won’t you just love me?”

“Why won’t you just love me?”

“We’re repeating ourselves.” The bull huffs.

The bull walks.

The bull writes, paints, feels, cries, tries and fails.

“I do love you.”



She’d never seen the sidewalk look so wet and grey before.

She knows this is not possible but what is it about pain that makes everything stick out.Why do the tears hurt so heavy in her stomach. Will it end? It does. She’s seen movies. It does…maybe she doesn’t want it to. She hasn’t felt at all for years. Robotic love now dismantled. But even metal has passion and memories. How to rip that apart. But the heat was too angry and the cooling is necessary. The tear will cool. Or so she tries to believe…




Tonight I think of you . Even if you do not think of me. I think of you. I have for a while now. You have disappeared and now the transparency is chameleon like I match it to any who will allow it’s form. You take the drawings with you and I ask for nights of release. I ask to stay up late and drink and cry and mimic my abilities and hope it will make any fucking difference at all. But show up I will. . . again. I show up. We show up. The artist shows up, for the glorious moment that is the process.