Category: Poetry

I once told my mother and sister in our living room that my home room teacher in sixth grade had cussed a us. After a little prying they got me to say it. She had called us asinine. And I…. something.

When my neighbor an attorney passed, he had a gathering held where he had once held his retirement – with his friends there at the venue. He had his Harley there with one boot in its stirrup. He had once been acknowledged by J. Edgar Hoover. And he had defended his friend the Governor correctly…

I had been given a book after sitting in on a meeting. I was 7. The sky was overcast that early afternoon. It was a conference room. The windows were kinda gray outside and there were businessmen. I read the book while in the back of my father’s Lincoln going through Wyoming, Utaha, Colarado and…

Joey was four years older than I was. Who was in the Industry? Who was in the Company? Who was in the community? Where were the conventions? Who was on the road? Who would walk in? Leaving notes in the park. I had met a robust individual with a jovial attitude just recently ask me…

My father had the highest raw score that was ever placed on the Alpha tests at 17, I was told by my mother, while he was in Corpus Christi before the end of WWII and that mine was higher. Much, much higher when it was tested in ’66. Mine was at .0001 of the top…

As a child of 13 around 1973 we lived by the most prominent attorney in the state who was publicly defending his close friend from Nixon’s Dirty Tricks. The attorney and Governor arranged for West Point Cadets to be hosted at our house while on Choir Tour. And on our wall in the Guest room…

Eddie, Somewhere in the future he’s listening to me.To us. He bought my Candle Lantern. Yes. I can see him. What do you think he is like? I don’t know.

No more tears. When the night comes in its cloak and the light vanishes. Away. Do you wait unapologetic until morning. Do you spit into the darkness for stealing one moment one second of cherished away. Do you curse the turn of your heart to sorrow in the constant downfall of sleep. Do you curse…

with the guitar across from me in in its open case like a wake… I just finished the poem … On The Way Home. I mention Carroll. Lou Reed. Bowie. Iggy Pop. Brian Eno. Robin Williams. Lennon. Was I there once? Than what else would the damn thing be for? How bad was the injury.…

I was on the edge of the Boomers. I was the little brother. They had the 60’s. I had the 70’s. But someone stopped the Punk Movement in NY dead cold and made way for New Wave and the Go-Gos. I worship the ground you walk on. Seriously. Those that I grew up around cared.…