MUCHO PASSION

Laughs exchange
strangers drunk
stumble about this much
Not for the right reason though
if this could be one
my funny valentine
twists around
in a dance of balance
of many kinds
in many ways
two tango though
like the smoke lingers
on our breath
tomorrow
we remember
that this is alive.

For jordan

This haze
is lost
between four concrete walls
30 years of dust
and your lack of understanding.
tomorrow we are born anew
slimy, bloody, breathing
a hundred years of your mistakes.
we sit on roof tops
climbing endless stairs
to immortality.

drip, dropped.

Drip/drop
leaking through my ceiling.
The princess
and the pea.
This princes bed
full of sand,
and wet none the less
The sound of shattering glass
as my lullaby
sing me to sleep.
Guide my fingers
to swift keyed justice.
The sound of sex.
Rough and unloving.
Disenchanted
and
disconnected.
In a clearing,
of voice
it is all it will ever be.
Black holes/black outs
we owe thanks.
Invoke something,
anything.

1889

I clung to rusted metal with broken dreams. Stories above the stories you hear about I looked through the safety cage surrounding a ladder to disappointment realizing the story might be all we have. Caught in the 30 seconds of shutter, a moment can not be described, printed, painted or told. Heads hung in a less than arrogant manner lent to low spots. A crack in a window may only be that to you, to us it is a portal to immortality in an instant. Clatter of metal, the passing of a torch so to say via crowbar. This steel serpent sleeps no more, for tonight adventure has set us upon a tangled web of flickering lights, winding metal stairs, corroded floors. Death around every corner, life in every breath. Slowly winding upwards towards the reality of freedom. Legs burning we emerge from a tiny door to bask in the neon glow of a hundred years of blood, sweat and tears. you were born in 1889,the year of a total solar eclipse. Under a full moon we howl with life coursing through veins. Point. Shoot. Never able to capture this feeling. With this writing. Or his photos. We were there. Some day that will be all we have.