FINDING MY SELF

Why don't I sit in the streets
with the homeless
why don't I sit around all day
laughing with all my friends
why do I sometimes feel
a divine lonliness
why doesn't my heart
do more
why do the nights
turn dark
why is there a bag lady
in every town
why am i not playing divine music
to the whole world
why is life too short
or too long
why do we need
fire air water
why am I often
frightened
why didn't my dad
give birth to a child
why do I always seem
unlucky
why can't I live like
the bronze pigeon
why now that I'm old
I don't want to run the show
why is there a sacred
and a profane
why are there so many
self help wwriters
why can't I write poems like Cohen
or do I want to
why do I seek love
and not hate
why is my house cluttered
and not sparse
why do I keep adding
and not subtracting
why does my lover look at me
when I cry
why do I mask
my insecurity
why do i want to live
and not die
why don't I know that the universe
is inside me
why don't I appreciate
the small things
why was I more mature
when I was a child
why does god tempt us with
whiskey drugs and religion
why is the robe of a preacher
cleaner than a beggars' shirt
why are our hearts not
interlocked
why is there obstruction
to the openness
why do I ask if I will
transcend
why don't I acknowledge
this moment is the best
why do I know
not knowing the answer
is the answer
as I dig deeper inside myself

CANTANTE MELODICO

there was the time i wish i could croon

like frank sinatra in vegas

or leonard cohen in singer hall

moan like dylan at cafe wa

or sing like the great hank williams

belting song after song

drinking some old jack daniels

singing songs of love and pain

now mi sueno is to croon like ibrahim ferrer

soulful seductive and raw

giving a live performance in a smoky room

at la bodeguita in old havana

with bassist cachito lopez

pianist roberto fonseca

guitarist manuel galbon

and the old seductive diva omara porftuordo

cantante melodico (crooning)

su corazon engano (your cheatin heart)

mi sueno (my dream)

UNPLUGGED

preacher roe who loved to talk
was worn like an old sack
so in solitude he flew off
to the place where planets collide
and eagles crash through the mud

searching to be unplugged
and find deep silence
where the road is too long
where the sky is too deep
where the horizon is too vast
where his mind will be emptied yet full
where the frogs hesitate to croak
he will stand naked and silent

with the blockage in his bowel
we wont have to listen
to his bull shit anymore
as preacher roe remains
silent and unplugged

CAR WASHER

in the shadows of the cobalt hotel
obedient cars are lined up
sinking into the pot holes
from last winters freeze

being the lead man i exhale
clouds of frosty carbon dioxide
waving in the next car

my purple bald head hidden
beneath wool toque and soggy earmuffs
face covered with frozen beard

close by the the hose covered in ice
slippery and bleeding
from the broken water main

slowly drains
through the cigarette butts
and broken coffee cups

ankle deep in muddy water
i start hosing down the car
while singing your cheatin heart

looking forward to supper
and a bottle of red wine
no longer a starving artist
i now wash cars for a lving

TRAVELLING TO LOTUS LAND

you hitched a thousand miles
north from san francisco
looking for confessions between
the high winds and ten thousand things

growing older and blind
you rely on the darkness because
the night has a thousand eyes

wet and hungry you feel
the kleenex flavored snacks
dribble down your chin

looking gross feeling feeling depressed
heading for lotus land wondering if
what i have attained in buddhism is nothing

you remain a beggar
both lonely and happy while
im crying all the time

remembering that day i yelled at you
to get out of my way
i remain cold like an icy hydrant

in the shadow of that memory
i leave my silence to a co operative of poets
who have already bruised their mouths
against it



poem includes 6 lines from 6 poets

"you hitched a thousand miles north from san francisco" gary snyder from
august on sourdough a visit from dick brewer

"the night has a thousand eyes" robert creeley from chasing the bird

"kleenex flavored snacks dribble down my chin" amy chandler from travel log

"what i have attained in buddhism is nothing" jack kerouac from 190th chorus

"im crying all the time now" allen ginsberg from tears

"i leave my silence to a co operative of poets who have already bruised their mouths against it" leonard cohen from the pro (nashville notebooks of 1965)

PHOENIX

down to the waterfront i went
searching for the sailor
who would lead me to the parlor

inside he asked me what i wanted
a phoenix i replied
red orange green and blue

then across my bones and under my flesh
he applied the colors
with his droning needle

red for my rage
pixeled and screaming
to mesmerize all

orange for my jealousy
bottled in my dreams
and hidden behind no smile

green and blue for my envy
sadness and fears
and all the tortured nights


all hidden hidden from all


with the shades between
to show the journey i will take
the fire of coals i will run from
carving the deep lines dark
not stopping if i flinch
as i am already established with pain

trace out the wings like flames
relasing me from the hole
and the cage that holds

i am not what they want me
your sweet child to hold
i am now seventeen and need to fly


with the phoenix
you tattoo on my arm
off i will fly i'm now of age

THE BRIDE WORE RED

somewhere waiting to be found
rejected by the scholar
hungerying and waiting to be found
she sat confused in pigeon park

in the back alley of chinatown
a bohemian poet sat
chanting some zen mantra
and glaring at the red dress

he got up and approached her
with the lisp and laughter of a fairy
he asked what she was waiting for
will you marry me?

of course i will
so off they went
he in black she in red
looking for some bohemian preacher