you've walked this path before and you know it well, every stone, every tree, each rise and fall in the rocky path, and today is like another, bubbling brook, hanging moss, spanish it's called, with those little blue flowers you think are cowbells but aren't, you've thought these thoughts before and you know them well, every turn, every phrase, every question for the mind and today is like another, bright shining star of life hiding beyond the coming hill with glory already spilling through the air to light your way but there is no need for light, you would see them clearly without eyes

your jealousy causes you to stumble and you realize you've changed, the path is the same, the light is still golden, but your heart has grown smaller, harder, less open, more scarred, and it does not frighten you, you know you will eat the heart of your daughter when you get home and you will heal and she will smile and you both will hang the pans on the wall and laugh

is it my purpose to stroke that little cat that lives in your heart so it will purr and you will remember the love God has given you for me from time to time? is it my mission to give you reason anew or simply to recall to mind those glorious words of the past? is it fitting that i should wallow in tidal pools of self while you spend your essence on children i neither care for nor attend to?

shall i speak of the past or the future, shall i show you works or remember myself to you, shall i love you in deed or mouth against your ear instead my desire...

the nighttime walk in autumn's light
cathedral's leaping fliers
your wrist my breath our lives entwined
speak now of our desires
for i will promise until your gasp
and then we'll walk away
the night will weigh so heavily
your brow will knit to stay
we tried i cry but you won't go
my car will fold and bend
your tears will sing farewell i think
no angel God did send

if i had a hammer and you were my lady
i'd hit you in the mornin' smack you in the evenin'
just about supper time

when God grants repentence is there something i have to do to use it, is there some aching in my heart that leads to action, some desire unfulfilled that tells me which way to go? or is there just a book and a quiet room? or a baby who smiles unfailingly with her gap tooth grin?

those blonde smooth-skinned smiling faces make me believe in spite of my idiocy

a bonofatigue remedy in three verses...

hold me kick me kill me spill me
you know the car is idling
and wenches are for tarts
you're a big wad of cash
you're a star
don't be shy
please tell me to cry
hold me kick me kill me spill me
oh oh
duh duh duh dadadah
weinerweiner...
once you find your underwear
go down on your knees
tell me why you're crying
grab your crucifix
you don't have to be mine love
hold me kick me kill me spill me
you don't know how you shook it
when you been stealin' headlights
you're a star
pressin' records with your sister
you don't know what you're cooking
baby you're a car
oh think of the sky
you'll have to go die
hold me kick me kill me spill me

she's short and blonde
and she smiles when i see her
she loves for me to hold her
up to the sky to see
and her laugh is like heaven
when she's happy i cry
and there's not enough world
to hold all her joy
every step an adventure
every chair a tower
every pillow for screaming
every insect for inspection
she sleeps in my arms
she cries whee in a circle
she clings, she grasps, she loves

she thinks this song is about her
and she knows what she knows
and she knows there's a sun in the sky
and her lovers all lie
and the flowers will die when it's over

she thinks this song is about her
but she's never wrong until now
and she'll never know just how
and she'll never understand
why i'm leaving tonight with her movies

she thinks this song is about her
'cause she dances along
and sings out the song
and she always hops on one foot
and there's always a door slamming at night

she thinks this song is about her
and you know it's the truth in the day
and you know it's a lie anyway
and she thinks she's beautiful
and she's right

though i hardly knew you i had seen your face, your smile, the way your eyes sparkled when a child laughed, i knew what lay behind them, i thought...there was a hardness there, born of a thousand sunsets alone, a resolution to endure until God gave you rest, a place immutable but sharp as a knife where you looked out at the scenery and waited...you were not afraid until i told you your past, from your eyes, and you were not afraid after i told you your future, and you were unafraid as you told me your present, from your eyes, promising violence i could never hope to answer if i betrayed your unspoken rules, and i did as i was bid, and so you rode away, never looking back...i thought i had known you...i know nothing

the leaving fills your heart more full than you imagined it could, a leaving filling crying artificial loss that separates heart and mind from flesh from flesh and there is no more comfort in the hand that's held close, so you cry and you cannot speak and still you know the life lives on in the sky and then over the sea and later you load the washer and a sock reminds you of the time you swam with the one you love and there was laughter and splashing and Jesus loved you both and you could feel it and so you go into your room and both your children comfort you between the sobs and the antics of the smaller one remind you again when you were seven and she looked like that when she stumbled also and you laugh and you thank God who watches over and you hold her close to your soul in prayer

you're standing there, staring, you can't help it. there it is, just as you always imagined it, but not quite the way you thought it would be, hanging limp, lifeless, painted onto the scene it seems, out of place but making sense at the same time.

you turn away and think about that time years ago on this same stretch of sand, good friends, pristine air, water colors straight from a postcard and sand that looks and feels like expensive glass beads prepared for the occasion...it's not the same now.

your feet are stuck, you turn back and nothing's changed. you've got to remember why, why did this happen today instead of a week from now? was there anything you could have done to change it, to prevent, to mitigate? was the water still moving or was that your vision swimming back and forth on the waves while the sea stood up and turned your life inside out?

with a hard swallow you finally walk away, remembering the words your mother spoke on this beach three years ago...it's so vivid, i always thought it was exaggerated but now i see the truth

through blurry eyes and teary cheeks
i stumble out your door
resisting strong the urge that seeks
to call you "dirty whore"
your evil ways your loving eyes
your shining lips prevail
i love their glisten and huge size
i will no more cavail
i shall not seek your death nor cause
the cops to come to call
i will no more return because
my heart has made its fall
another lover waits for you
and you are never lost
but i no more can take my cue
for lies your lips do cost

our feet in wander
a song rides through watrous dale
delight fills your skin

dream a wisp of spring
crying winter knows her bounds
lamentation is

windish november
weaving my trees together
wandering gypsies

the poem sings fire
my heart no longer my own
your ear buzzing aloud

wild horses charging
in toxicity overborn
i wonder aloud

in fondest wishes
your eyes green without envy
red lips no longer

dynamic stutter
thy will is frozen bluebirds
and falling is not

with falling water
weeds and child alike will grow
she sings in wet skin

new life budding child
like verdant garden overflow
i am joy unbound

whisper soft breezes
secret floating desiring lips
i am lost again

my autumn desire
you are the flame in the sun
and i, a dry leaf

swimming hole freedom
your hair spreads out behind you
feeling God's bright smile

white cotton dresses
daughters bloom like white lilies
your scalp is burned red

full moon with flurries
distance outshines softened face
your eyes design joy

water beneath ice
our heart beats unseen tonight
the loss is weight-full

cold night wind alone
leeching my joy
in love
waiting for you
despairing

harsh city lighting
for safety, i guess
outside their circle
unsafe, melting, icy
waiting for you
unfeeling

no stars hazy
opressive ceiling
bearing down
head hurts
waiting for you
fainting

stars in my eyes
turning headlights
heart leaps
not yet you
waiting
weeping

heater full blast
heart full
your smiling sparkle
time compressed
waiting no more
content

as you lie sleeping and i am beside you
i hear you breathing and i am aware
Jesus he loves me and i'm sure he loves you
i see your hair there it's framing your face
i touch you gently as i lie beside you
i stroke your cheek and i think of your smile
you stir you breathe out as i softly sigh
i am your husband and you are my wife sweet
and we love each other like none gone before

i was dying on the rock they chained me to, but they made sure i couldn't, and the bird came again and tore me in two...i hate that bird

they were right, of course, i deserved this, and more for what i done...fire, like government, is a fearful servant and a dangerous master or some such, fire from heaven...i wonder if birds ever eat cooked meat, i think i'd like to know what i taste like cooked...i think i'll ask that bird when he comes tomorrow

the sun is hot and the wind has chapped my lips again and though the sea is right there i get no comfort from the waves or the spray, there is only glare today, no joy, no beauty, only blinding endless stabbing light, until the bird comes and then there will be no blinding stabbing light but blinding pain and stabbing beak and me gnashing my teeth and trying, in vain, to bite his neck or his wing or his gizzard

at night there are something like 6398 or 6407 stars i can see with my eye, i lose track sometimes, and some stars fade in and out depending on my concentration...they made sure i couldn't sleep, either, with the way they fastened the chains, always bent back slightly, hovering over that jagged, wind and wave torn rock, once smooth, perhaps, but now a hundred knives eager to drink my blood...i suppose the calluses will form soon enough...or scars

the bird just left for the day, no gizzard left, i guess, and i think i'm getting used to the pain, or maybe i've learned to block it out, i don't know, still hurts something fierce...if i had fire i could burn it, cauterize it, and i'd smell cooked flesh and the burn would probably be worse than the open wound...it usually heals around twilight, with the moon marching up out of the sea, proud and glowing, showing off her hazy glory, possibly for me alone, i dare to believe, she tempts me with her song and sometimes i sing along, my head to one side, resting on my shoulder, singing softly while she rises...she betrays later, though, when her light turns cold and the stars bore into my flesh with their sharp pricks, their stinging needle lights that make my flesh crawl...i wish the bird would eat them too

he didn't mind so much that they knew the seasons, or healing, or any of the other things i gave them, even all together their offense he tolerated, but i kept pushing the limits, kept giving them more...they are fragile and need our help i told him, but he wanted them to die, he had plans that did not involve men and i could not stand to see them suffer...his eagle has a weakness, i think it craves my cries now, for it seems to me to brood when i bite my tongue instead of crying out...i hate that bird

take care of your father were her dying words to me that day in the rain on that mountainside in that jungle in that country across that sea just over that hill over there...so i came home and i popped a cap in his ass and that was that

now, where can a man get a beer and a light for his smokes in this rat-hole

the day the whole world went away...lying on the tracks when the rocks begin to dance reminds me of the feeling just before i break the surface, that feeling of nihilism, of what if i just stayed here until everything stops, that feeling of needing to evaluate because there might be some careless mistakes in there gumming up the works and maybe it should all be shucked out the door and a new one built in its place...there is relief later but for now, that pressure, that tension, that sense of great things about to occur even if they lead to blood and weeping

there is a moment when the blade presses but has not yet begun to cut...that moment before there is no turning back when the doubt also presses in and the mind must decide whether to accept the temptation, that final moment of action, that instance of decisiveness

there is an emptiness from which the mind will not return and bhudda is not there, though there seems to be light it is cold and void and without love of any kind, there is no frame on which to hang a life and it dissipates like vapor once the whistle has begun to blow

you can never go home because a prophet is without honor in his home town

i was trying to figure out where the girls had gone while you picked out a good atoll and Jesus said he had them over at the waterfall we used to go to in okinawa and you decided we should eat on the steps of the ruins of the monestary, that really long stairway, i can't remember if we counted them or not because i kept laughing about the jim carrey joke on ace ventura

you made a really good salad with that spice we picked up in brazil last month and Jesus brought some crackers that he said Mary used to make back in nazereth and i couldn't think of anything so i got some water from Jim and Becky's place because they're always raving about how good it is but Jesus said he thought the tap water over on brunkly avenue was just as good when he visited last week so i don't know, you know how i never understood water anyway, and we forgot to bring forks so we ate it with our fingers and the crackers were kinda bland but Jesus just smiled and smiled like he was remembering the good through the pain

when you asked him what kind of games he played as a kid he showed us a burro and how if you tie a piece of carrot to the right side of their neck they turn toward it but if you put it on the other side they lie down and roll on the ground and he just thought that was the funniest thing and when he laughs you have to laugh along because his happiness is so infectious

we walked up to the temple and he explained how the some of the builders spent their entire lives working on it even though he kept sending them signs; he never talks about the ones that didn't want him in the end and i know there's no tears and all that but i see how he remembers and i wonder how he deals with it, but of course he's not me and doesn't have my limitations, like you say, he always understands

i asked him about the word grok and he said i should let it go because it had been so troubling to so many and then he explained about romans 7 and Paul's perspective there and how it fit in with 6 and 8 and he tied it back to all the prophets who talked about the stumbling block and he told us a funny story about Peter walking out to his boat on the water when no one was around after pentacost and he explained why Peter and Paul were so different and so effective, how Peter's boldness was always something Jesus cherished in him, and how Paul's mind was so quick to grasp the implications

you said something about finding the girls then and we walked home, knowing he would call them if he wasn't actually with them while he was with us, which is what i always figured he was doing, and you talked about some of the times in china that time we went and thanked Jesus for all the little gifts he gave us then, right when we needed them, it seemed, and he just smiled as you talked and i knew you had something going with him that i couldn't hear at the moment and i wondered if you'd tell me later of if i would understand, but i noticed in your list from china all the things you saw that i hadn't, that we hadn't talked about, how your eye for detail was so much keener than mine, and i loved you

Jemma talked about climbing the waterfall and Isabelle was excited about rock diving or something like that, i might have heard her wrong, it sounded like she had been inside the rocks, hiding from Jemma and noticing all the little places where bugs had been tunneling or something, maybe she was talking about water fractures, i never could keep up with her on the geology thing when she got going, and you and Jemma were busy arranging the flowers for dinner and i sat down and thanked Jesus for spending the afternoon with us and invited him for breakfast because i had a special ingredient i was going to try out in the eggs

how can you see into my eyes
when i'm such a whore
how can i sell my heart again
while you stare cold and plain
how can you stand to see
the filth that lies inside
without the flood without shame
without the final razor's edge
assume there is no pain
assume there is no gain
assume my life is open
though not complete
assume i'll die
assume i'll cry
assume there is no reason
and then just walk away

i keep thinking as i hear new music that i could write like that for you but what we've written is too different...too grave

i have written whimsy at times, though exacting at first for fear, more relaxed as you eased my trepidation, but lately careless and loose, testing limits at least once, and never whimsy for you, only to my own ear

when i lie at night and your ear is full
won't you lie with me again
when i lie at night and your eyes overflow
won't you set me to rights again
when i lie at night with eyes wide shut
won't you set that knife on the table
and tell me why you're leavin' me
you're not so young and blind i think
and not so sweet now that you drink
and not so tall as i once was
though you're no saint and got no flaws
i feel the pain when your eyes meet mine
'cause that knife edge aint so fine