thinking of rocks

today i'm thinking of rocks
at the water's edge
like soot caked pots

i promised not to stay here
but i guess i forgot
i promised not to cheat
but i forgot what you had taught

treating each day
like a page
of connect the dots
joining the numbers
to see what we've got

my pen has ink
my axe has chop
but the essence of this heart
has never been caught

just passing through

passing through the dark one's tunnel
we have no payment yet
they've given us a bone to share
a threat to raise the rent

we sit around the breakfast table
with the potential of blank checks
a ball of twine to hang our hats
a chip to place our bets

careful baby it's a slippery step
a cloud of traffic
a beating chest

a bun with ketchup
an unfair test
the fawkward filler
of an unfamiliar guest

i walk along the river's face
a flat and snaking blue
she shows me the color of my hair
makes my interpretation new

we get along very well
a wet reflecting view
she says don't invest in this world
we are all just passing through

more clouds

can i lay broken in your arms?
is this the place to do it?
have i crushed all charm?
or are you wading through it?

i'm not myself here you see
a ghostly departure
of what i used to be
a cage in the places
where i once flew free
a change in the pace
of natural sincerity

these snapshots and stabs
aren't really me
is it okay?
does it drive the tenderness away?
does it catapult your plan to stay?

more clouds
than you'll ever know
more shrowds
then i'll ever show
teach me how to dance through it

you can't have my lunch money

you can't have my lunch money
i need it to eat with
for corn bread and honey

you're coming at me
like a foul hand of rummy
i'm not the bug-eyed bruise here
i'm not the twitching bunny

i used to be a painter
i used to be a gun
barrel loaded with a vapor
that would unveil drowning suns

i used to be a beggar
used to be a nun
footprint on my forehead
content with my rations

i used to be a cross
i used to be a pun
cracked the double meaning
to find out what i've won

you can pounce me from the backside
karate chop my tummy
but the challenge of this draw's
for you to drop your load
and love me

let's sit around

let's sit around
and be pragmatic
lube up our egos
like a barel of chap stick

burn up our fuel supply
with dark beer and slapstick
bury our treasure then
count our steps to map it

the wind is whistling off shore
seagulls glide by
like black and white boomerangs
across a salt flaked sky

whales wash up
become weighty
blubber sigh
time feels timeless
time slips
by

mr. green

mr. green proclaimed
when he was just sixteen
that he would have the rest of us
work his loud machines

how can we blame him
for his efficiency?
for his well used thread
for his clean kept knees?

how can we hate him
for his tossed naivety?
his easy lane
his undone deeds?

turn the gears
sweat hair no relief
the tic tocking of the blood clock
overpowers our hard wheeze

while somewhere on a blue
beach stretches mr. green
with his green eyed martini
and his stress free spleen

money fans his forehead
carried in on island breeze
the fine example of a man
who had the courage to receive

vital link

for steve
in the settled aftermath
of your late attendance
i take a tour of your leftovers
and collect them like presents

your button up polo
deflated like a ghost
an improvisational abstract rendering
of its once naked host

your hair in the sink -
the dark vein of a corpse
an onyx curl
against white virgin
porcelein

your lone gray sock -
an elephants trunk sunk
under the ruffles
of the bed's bottom
bunk

the sheets where you slept -
a crinkled cotton cove
a fleshy embryo
taking view from above

these are your memos,
your sticky notes
stuck
bright and yellow
like butter colored
ducks

this is your crumbs trail,
your dna and ink,
your unseen to the seen,
proof of purchase,
vital link.