come back to the old kind of trust

the arithmetic of care

                           near the rock river

wisconsin

in bloom

                           the year’s second full moon

a  beautiful   dutiful thief

                           just saying that comes as relief

no longer

keeping it

                  from myself

sharing the wealth

                           the health                    

the burden

    of words

                           you couldn't call it anything else

these are the ones

                           that woke me up

that made me

                love

                           and forget what it is about heaven

turning over every leaf

                           to find they are the same

what was

the name?

                           to finally place the blame

in brazil it isn't summer

                           clandestine behavior  

to taste

the sweet sunshine

                           cold and clear or warm and bright

joyride got to have

                           summer twice

before she took

the bad advice

                           she spilled it slowly late at night

she took the time

                           to take a chance

before the fall

broke both her hands

                           put the idea back in a can

it came from eyes

                           and minds   hearts in the air

from scorn

and stares  

                           golden waves of golden hair

not sure i was

                           supposed to be complete

not even

remotely sure

                           about supposed to be

to those that would

                           thieve

and everyone

              does

                           the wood makes a good effort

                          

to hold back the water

                           feel like it ought to

come back

to the old kind of

                                        trust

Helping Mr. Rothko by Henry Xavier Porter 2007

a young person's guide to pressboarding

do your best to keep an open mind

      stretch it out for weeks at a time

then    make the same mistakes your entire life

    but if it should happen to break tonight

if it should happen to break    like    like

i mean just go ahead and

     blink twice  if you hear it    or feel it

till you know that it’s right

           or at least until you’re sure that she might

a waterfall bend

be here tomorrow to do it again

             the best was worn against my neck

it was built on sand    what did you expect

the lies that bring the many smiles

wouldn’t burn   given time

   you’d think we’d learn  

maybe        right?

take one step closer to the light

that extra step   will loose the tight

      but don’t question fear   it could be right

evo   lution       that is why

something is riding on this

but you   don’t know what it is

    do you

skin-and-bones?

    the next kiss

just don’t tell the kids

looking back

not sure why i did

a novella about pride in yourself  

 bringing it one step closer to health

proving for once that right    is a time

       is it leaped or leapt    you decide

                                                                each step one closer to    

                                                                               what  i’ll 

 find

  The Execution of Emperor Maximilian -Edouard Manet 

apparent tense

on mondays and fridays i'm a ghost

shuffling gently through a crowd

by the time anyone sees

the hint of a rumor

hypotension

i am the sickle cell

the river   blood red clay

not sticky muck san antonio shoes

a north dallas counter  slowed but shown

on every thursday morning i am a rush

lists of names for academic gain

a lack of pain and wu tang

hawk

an alabama smile

with trombone eyes losing some

while taking the fight to smoking rights

words that will make you learn despite

on rainy tuesday mornings i am alone

it is different than being lonely

in little degrees marked by

tiny lines in a circle

told

it is time

it is enough

it is the measure

of what we have come to know

on every second wednesday i am at once

 the who you have known

and the hello stranger

yes mother maybelle

circle

filtered through staples

gentle     english tremelos

record store floors like the heroin chic

of that   the nineteenth of november, 1965

on every single weekday i am at most

the time it takes to scrutinize

identify or multiply

hold up a hand and

testify

to the house of cash

and thimbles with the name

john r. by the side of the very road that runs in and out of one soul sucking town

on fridays in particular i am at best

the sweetest sound that i can

coax from those s a d-1's

push and pull trems

lollar

gunstock oil the hooker oak tree

write a happy song

and don't you dare forget about me

on saturdays in the fall i am at home

with the jittery nervous idea

that time will not tell

the answer

ever

that time is laughing as it passes

the very ones who might notice   who might care  

who might   try

to slow it down   buying rounds  on drinking nights

on fridays after the wall comes down i am the host

to the collection of pick me smiles

from every little year gone by

in my  boot brown eyes

try

drunken phone calls to the

very last person who would expect

to hear from you on a european afternoon

double ring and impending doom straightway from weimar texas

on the third day of may i make the thanks

for lessons learned and sunburns

hitson drawling little words

all the way out and

unconcerned

inverted numbers letters sent

caused a flood in my own defense

i learned the  songs and what it meant to decatur dirge but lift myself

on the very next sunny monday

i will be more than the thought

of the things not bought

the swagger stalk

rope

pulled hard         taut

christmas greetings you forgot

the first fallen snow quiet and clocked

until the the gray takes things more often than not

on broken sunday trips around the lake i am the most

ithaca gorgeous rintin starbucks whiskey hidden giddy of a north buffalo big man

w/uncertain heredity

                                changer

the telecaster at twenty three

the way i play that is not the lead

the metal pedal will change your plans

she not sleeping lil man                 she dead

yes on fridays and mondays i am a ghost

stand/sitting at a bus stop

ever seeking  smile

joseph lee henry

sold

melody left

left to right to left

letting out all of the heat

the forgone 

concluded discussions