Marlowe through Melville

I'll lean forward
moving in
next to all these spines
glossy and crisp
close enough
to smell the
soft chemical sting
of grease
and leaves
I'll cock my head
to catch a glimpse
Of every title,
axiom, and
bold summation
running sideways
due South

And in this church
of mine
in this isle
on these shelves
next to all my heroes
I'll feel something turn
in the pit of my stomach
an anxiety
that makes me think
I can do what they did
My spine can carry
the load
of all the truth
and all the
beautiful lies
I'd love to tell you
I'm dying to tell you

10,000 acres

there are parts of L.A.
that look just fine
where the front lawns
boast green
from behind picket fences
and mullioned windows
offer cross-hatched portraits
of perfect families
good, caring mothers
and strong,
hard-working fathers
who love their
incandescent children
perfect families
from Rockwell's America
in the warmth of their homes
underneath the growing
billows of smoke
riding the backs of
the Santa Anas
galloping through town
as the pungent,
ashen reminder
of a destitute woman's
heirloom wedding dress
and a crying boy's football

Jack, he is a banker.

Whaddya say, Lou?
Shall we nullify our lives?
You with heroin
Me with procastination
At least you can
Write a song about it
I might start one
but I won't finish it
What says you, Lou?
Was today a perfect day?
I gotta say
I wish I could tell you
that I'm fighting
an uphill battle
with mediocrity
but I'd be lying
I still haven't figured out
what costume to wear
for all tomorrow's parties

Next Gas 50 mi

I'd give anything

to be twenty-five

in nineteen seventy-three

unshaved

in dirty jeans

making my way across

Kansas or

the Joshua Tree

in a beat up

Westfalia

with a pack of cigarettes

sliding back and forth

across the dashboard

and a copy of

Ask the Dust in the

passenger seat

with the cover missing

a burgundy guitar with

the high E snapped

in the back

and no idea of

where I'm going

or when I'll stop

Chromatophores

I can assure you
That there are not
Nearly enough
Explanations
Labels or
Forms of classification
That could possibly
Subdue
My knee-jerk
Tendency
To gasp at
The amazing
Profound and
Startling effects
Of cuttlefish
Changing color

Seven Trillion People to Talk To

Sometimes I scream
inside myself
so loudly
it turns my
ears red
and my heart stops
for a second
it gets pressed
by something
and it hurts
then it's quiet
It happens when
I'm just breathing
Or waiting for the rain
to fall
busying myself by
drafting outlines
of things to do
things to come
plans to make
my mark
rather than
leaving a stain
Plans to touch
every single person
everywhere
for one second
long enough
to hear me scream
inside myself

Undiscover’d

Even an atheist
Has dreams of
Meeting his father
In heaven

This atheist will sit
On a rocking chair
Next to his dad
Looking over clichéd clouds
And gimmicky sunsets
He’ll talk to his father
Like an adult
Something he’s never done
Because this atheist
Was nine
When his father died
A stranger his mom loved
That took every conversation
They would have ever had
To the grave

But now in heaven
They’ll talk like adults
Because this atheist is
Thirty-two now
Almost thirty-three
He’s sitting on a rocking chair
In heaven
Drinking iced-tea with his dad
On a porch in the clouds
Like in the movies
And he’s got so many questions
To ask his Old Man

Did you ever listen to Bob Dylan?
Yeah I did – I loved Bob Dylan
Me too, Dad