Sunday, August 23, 2015

Echo Bird's Sunset Strip Love Advice

Echo Bird’s drunk again and
Preaching at pitchfork hounds
Who frown at passing glass and
Matching shoes.

Kindness, Echo laments.
It’s missing from your outfits.
How will you draw them in 
All points and angles? 
A softened sternum
Of liquid sugar 
That shatters with
The mildest blink.

This is what they seek
Have you not seen 
In all that looking?
Kindness is the start of
Oscar worthy after dark, but
Over coffee and peach.
Like the girl they never kissed
Unmarred by an end
Not barbs and nails
Draped in daring dresses
And strangled denim.
That ends.
In a guest house.
With a hot plate.
Near the good side of Van Nuys.    
Not cold cement. 
That’s my burning tip.

The glass frowns back at
Fingers combed black 
And the bird’s eyes dry
Down glowing cheeks of gold.

An Unexpected Turn of Events

I may not be Helen of Troy but
I am the best you'll get and I'll say that in
Print; so settle down sailor, make peace with your
Probabilities, and quit regarding me as the
Albatross. I've got culture to
Influence and life to narrate before I
Vacate to the (mis)fortune of resurrection.
So, strip off that calfskin and validate
Me with that crowing cock I'll soon cuckold
For I ain't no Helen of Troy and
Odysseus you are not.

The First Death

By the time the ambulance arrived
To cart you away
Rigor mortis had set in.
Cumulus clouds were floating
And Nixon announced Turkish invasion of Cyprus
A welcome distraction in his final month as
Commander in chief.
Alger, the house lynx snacked while
Your wife cried without resistance.
I mis-processed these tears,
Thinking you merely asleep
As I looked up to you lying
Motionless under quilt.
Your son arrived and ran me across the street
Into the care of the neighbor with the pool.
My brother was already submerged and
We traded kicks and turns.
Weeks later, I noticed dying vines strangled in
The espalier you built...just one of many small
Losses riding your sleepy coattails.

My Thing, You See

I have a thing you see,
For the insensible ones
That incinerate my heart
With averted glances and
Throwaway notes.
They are my addiction
My karma
For the casual disposal
Of kinder companions
Done away with
To facilitate
My sui generis status
Amongst friends and family.
I have lynched that life of
Ice cream socials and
Egg nog parties with
Big fish in small ponds
For a freedom foreshadowed
By that which it now contains.
Those averted glances
Thrown my way
And notes replaced with
Glowing pixels
Broken down and
Re-assembled into half words,
And passing thoughts that
Drift away with the lightest
Summer breeze
Leaving me


You call this crazy,
But I call it
Bullshit -
Bleeding money out
Gaping Wounds and
Wasting Days
Like a Fountain of Youth
That works the Wrong
Way to go
You say
Don't let them get you
Down I go
This mountain of
My own
One hundred mile
Maker in place
'Cause I never had what it takes
Like I did before I
Went and
Outside In.

Devil Dancing

Like the tourmaline
Twisting my neck
Devil dancing
Has lost its lustre.
So I bundle my vanities
In carry-ons and fly east.
A grovelling ghost
Grieving dissatisfaction,
A lack of pension, and
Seeking propitiation in
The original noose
That hung like rain and
Unleashed the rage
That sent me fleeing
In the first place.

Saturday, August 22, 2015


Other you say
There is an other
And here I reap
The consequence of
Belief that I
As other was not
Pattern but matter
Combusting on impact
In something singularly
Other worldly.
Carl Sagan, I thought
Could not explain away
Our chaotic embrace
As mere atom on atom
text book case...I was
Something other than just
Another to you.
And now I

The fool
Replaced and
Like lines of blow
Up your nose
It was great
But it's getting late and
An other will satisfy
Where I failed to sate.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Dancing in the Shadow of Walter White

Fabulous left her three legged dog
In a Burbank bomb shelter.
Full of  fleas
Infesting furniture and feeding on
Dying hustles.
The walls were hair metal poems
Of pussy paper
And sharpie bush.
Moth mauled linens,
Yellow with binges and
Cradled unstrung guitars
That once sold millions.
The kitchen was decorated
In three for fifteen
Pepperoni and cheese and
People waited,
Hands wringing,
Teeth clenching,
For the chemistry
Cooking in the camper
Out back.

For a minute, I played in a band that rehearsed in a house where lots of unsavory things happened.  I only saw the aftermath...and was too naive to totally understand just how unsavory until about a year after I'd moved on to other projects.