Monthly Archives: March 2015

Missing Beat

Kerouac, where have you gone
hiding in empty milk cartons behind
lost faces
distant graces
and your honeymoon eyes.
Have you hitched some train ride
across our sweet corn field country
to the West
where it was all won and golden?

Perhaps you are hiding in your dreams,
sleeping in rail cars
or scattered out at sea,
walking among the Big Sur trees
or dancing down Market street?
Perhaps you lost yourself among the jazz tones
and the bop,
perhaps you’re just hiding in some shadowy basement bar
tapping along to the beat.

Maybe you got lost on a carnival ride
your dark cotton candy eyes
sent you rocketing to the top
and maybe you’re slowly falling back down to Mount Tam.
Maybe you’re in Paris,
maybe you’re in Mexico.
Maybe I’ll spend forever wondering where did you go…

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Black hole love

Shoot me like a slingshot
and rocket me into space.
This black hole love
could write a song for me
about broken lullabies
and squeaky beds, about dust stained floors
and letters painted red.
Touch me too gently, rock me to sleep.
Tackle these demons, I’m feeling so weak.
Too soon, too late,
you come, I go,
left wandering through softness,
left willfully letting go.
Swing lo
in your chariot,
spaceships coming to take you away.
I won’t be waiting on the side of the moon
for your alien lust
for your downtown blues.
So shoot me like a slingshot,
for there’s no grace in this black hole space.


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