I Open Two Drawers

I open two drawers looking for the poem
i wrote about her, the paper gone farther
than the memory I have of the stench of
old wine and throw-up I knew her only high
and only between high guys falling in
her window for an almost fuck she was
old now, tired and sick, knew she would
not live too long we spoke of Jesus and
love and dollars, she liked to touch my
face i guess because of the innocence of
a twenty one year old white girl in Newark
New Jersey her words were mostly slurred
she made me cry because i wanted to love
her clean wanted to take her free wanted
to find some power to disentangle the crap
that had locked her in this room for the price
of the next fix she could have been my mother
except the last time i visited there was no sign
anyone had been there only the emptiness i
feel when I remember my favorite old whore

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Bamboozled

 
 
yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil Psalm 23.
 
some crazy ancestors thought that
spooks hid behind every tree and god
would kill you as fast as your enemy
down the trail so get your holy on
grab some fire and brimstone to keep
yourself clean and safe learn the rules
line the walls with precepts for the
afterlife everyone knew this world
would be hard here payment required
for all joy, sorrow a matter of living
 
we have come a long way baby, but
not so far from the Halloween fears
keep us doing shit to avoid shit
when a step off the path and into
the sunlight is a matter of a small
change of thought lightening speed
to fire with no brimstone, just warmth
and some light to dance around
i see these ghoulish apparitions more
often than Scrooge saw Marley
 
so this fall season i’m clearing the
windshield of my vision, taking
a look in the woods at the spirits
of joy and laughter, I’m done
bamboozling myself I’m off
to an adventure in the same
valley where last my bones were
shaking, really haven’t got all that
much to lose cradled here in the
arms of a dancing Universe made of love.

Conversation with the Great Wolf

 
 
Poem by Rumi, “the wolf is my shepherd,”
 
I can’t defend myself against the hideous
Gloom that comes over me at the thought
Of what my life has become, I’ve gone from
Conversation with the Wolf
Independent self-sustaining  woman of some
Small power and a little grace to an empty
Failing fool without a home
 
What do you say to that, Great Wolf?
 
I have carved a place especially for your feet
You may stand here next to me and enjoy
Your ride, I’m not asking you to become
Someone, I’m asking you to love the someone
You have become.

Old Songs

 
I leave her at the station
Leaving makes me want to fight
All the old ways surface in the bone-
Tired of too much rush the train
Comes in fast not swift enough
To keep me from trying to make
Distance between us push is the
Way I know to stay safe in love
Keep my plane ticket locked in the
Heart of my escape pod all these
Years the tears hold anger still
At who or what?  I sing an old familiar
Tune “if you go away, and I know you will,”
My throat twists wrenching free
At her voice on the phone, you will
Not make me want to leave you
Weeping a nine year old’s unloosed
tears I relive the old divorce how
I grew whole and he only loved the
Old projected illusion I had movied
For him I rest my case before the All One
Turn the radio on already tuned to
Things are gonna get better.