week fiftyfour: on the day of the dead

(a relevant poem)

on the day of the dead

skulls painted
in a dozen shades of red
sit by a crucified jesus christ figure at the side of her bed

scotch with her meds
playing penny slots again
she says when i meet the lord i’ll be wearing this long black dress

then she says oh my
i don’t want to die
on the day of the dead

the sun’s going down
and the kids are all out
i pass a pirate and a princess and a devil on the way into town

the pharmacist
at the cvs
says boy i can’t believe your mama is the woman in the dress

i ask him why
he says you look so white
i pay and i leave and i know it’s gonna be a cold night

i help her into bed
she says sorry i’m a mess
and tomorrow i don’t know if i can wake up but i swear i’ll do my best

then she says oh my
i don’t want to die
on the day of the dead

week fiftythree: oil in the water pt. 2

oil in the water pt. 2

did you meet somebody in some bar
break your promise in the backseat of her car
did you wake up certain you were dreaming
throw up everything you had that evening
running like a buffalo to slaughter
burning off the oil in the water

did you let a decade pass you by
sitting down around your nine to five
going into church every week
just to sing with someone who believes
did you see her outside of the mall
standing with a man long and tall
were you humming fare thee well my lover
burning off the oil in the water

did you have a baby girl in cleveland
stay with you in buffalo some weekends
painting wild whiskers on your cheeks
driving down to barcelona beach
diving from the dock the way you taught her
burning off the oil in the water

week fiftytwo: witnesses

witnesses

we both saw the damage he was done
we both saw the damage he was done
when he came here broken
and you wrapped him in your love
we both saw the damage he could do and the damage he was done 

creatures now are burrowed in the yard
creatures now are burrowed in the yard
the winter sun is quick to go
and daily breaks your heart
creatures now are burrowed in the house in the walls and in the yard

honey i believe in who you are
honey i believe in who you are
when the house was freezing
and we slept out in the car
honey i believe in who you were who you’ll be and who you are

we both saw the damage he was done
we both saw the damage he was done
when he came here broken
and you wrapped him in your love
we both saw the damage he could do and the damage he was done 

week fiftyone: oil in the water pt. 1

oil in the water pt. 1

there’s rust and oil in the water
and i never wanted to be a father
but i’m going crazy with nothing time
and i’ve got room inside this house of mine

when the toast was done and the coffee brewed
i used to sit and read the news
and i’d get concerned then it passed me by
i’ve got room inside this house of mine

and all that i’m looking for now
is a song i can sing for a small and hopeful crowd
while the buffalo are running toward the slaughter
and there’s oil in the river water

it’s verse for verse and it’s pound for pound
and i scratch them out just to get them down
all these tiny notes all these fuzzy lines
i’ve got room inside this house of mine

and i wear your shirt when i want to cry
when the frozen pond looks just like the sky
and i wrote you more but nevermind
i’ve got room inside this house of mine

and all that i’m looking for now
is a song that i can sing to a small and hopeful crowd
while the buffalo are running toward the slaughter
and there’s oil in the river water

week fifty: tiny tracks pt. 1

(a relevant song poem)

tiny tracks pt. 1

ah ma we wake after so many hours
in a strange unknowable place
there’s good and there’s bad and there’s love and there’s power
but out here they all look the same

ah ma the dog cannot see in the night
so she doubts every change in the wind
you turned in your sleep and you made love to me
then we fell back to dreaming again

morning comes
up so slow
shining seas
golden shores
 
ah ma they’re waiting to wear us away
and we know it and we’re letting them in
i know their checks are a sure way to die
but i’ll do it if they ask me again

ah ma i said the tide’s coming in
if you asked me to leave now i would
they tell me love is a losing delusion
that i need you more than anyone should

morning comes
up so slow
shining seas
golden shores

ah ma i said i’m no good in their world
i am dying from distraction
i’ve seen the eyes of the internet girls
i am weary of their attraction

and i know this longing for what won’t be found
is a line from ten thousand songs
they tell me i can be somebody now
and i thank them but i know they’re wrong
 
cause right now the wind is howling blind
and you tell me it’s time to get out
the hush of the doorsweep the deep breath of night
we shatter the frost on the ground

and way out beyond the tall yellow grass
that cut tiny tracks in our arms
we see the first light distant and soft
and realize we’ve been in the dark

morning comes
up so slow
shining seas
golden shores

week fortynine: first snow

week fortyeight: song for paul

(hope is the thing with feathers)

song for paul

“you’ve been in uniform? you shoot at the enemy. you try to identify the enemy and the enemy right now, the overwhelming majority of people coming in, are people of color or people of hispanic origin.”
- governor paul lepage

drone in a big sky
jeep on a land mine
if i gotta go to war
i wanna be the one to die

i know there’s a pile of bones
everywhere the lightning goes

hawk in the high weeds
land of the white greed
plant a little love in it
give it a heartbeat

i know there’s a pile of bones
everywhere the lightning goes

i wish i could call you my friend
i wish you could call me yours
i thought i would die for something
i don’t think that anymore

i got a governor
straight talk governor
up in the state of maine
i gotta say a few words

cucarachas
we’re the monsters
hiding in the governor’s closets
take the white folks
hold them hostage
or sell them drugs
there’s a lot of options
check your plumbing
i hope you’re watching
mud pours your porcelain faucets
no one's gonna save you paul
you’re drowning in your own subconscious

hawk in the high weeds
land of the white greed
plant a little love in it
give it a heartbeat

i know there’s a pile of bones
everywhere the lightning goes

i wish i could call you my friend
i wish you could call me yours
i thought i would die for something
i don’t think that anymore

week fortyseven: 9/28/16

9/28/16

you wake up with lines on your cheeks
leave another anxious dream
you pull the blanket up off the floor
lying back to sleep a little more

she leaves you when the morning comes
she needs you when the work is done

on sunday she asks you to walk
through pitch pine and glacial walls
she’s in the water ankle deep
singing for the sleeping geese

she leaves you when the morning comes
she needs you when the work is done

you’re sitting at your desk in the attic
bleary eyed and weary of your habits
sometimes you see past the screen
sometimes you don’t see a thing

she leaves you when the morning comes
she needs you when the work is done

this life you know is nothingness
this life you know is all there is

on sunday she takes you to the beach
cold water shakes her to her knees
she says this is like a dream
you understand she means everything

she leaves you when the morning comes
she needs you when the work is done

this life you know is nothingness
this life you know is all there is

week fortysix: instrumental #5

(a poem about a ferry)

week fortyfive: fire on i-295

fire on i-295

i found her crying in her car
in a symphony of violins and classical guitars
i could hardly hear the sirens
for the static and the sound on the radio

fire on i-295
she looks out her window
and she tells me she’ll be fine
i ask her if it’s okay if i stay
until the ambulance arrives

i think i could love somebody now
i think i could love somebody now
while a tractor trailer burns

we were driving
we were moving
now we’re sitting on the side of the highway
somewhere in the state of maine

she looks at her reflection in the mirror
she says her sister lives about a mile north of here
and when she saw the wreckage
she thought of her nephew in his carseat

i think i could love somebody now
i think i could love somebody now
while a tractor trailer burns

we were driving
we were moving
now we’re sitting on the side of the highway
somewhere in the state of maine

all the time we had
all the time we lost

we were driving
we were moving
now we’re sitting on the side of the highway
somewhere in the state of maine

we’re sitting quiet in her car
in the symphony of violins and classical guitars
we can hardly hear the sirens
for the static and the sound on the radio

week fortyfour: funeral guests

funeral guests 

early may
new york city
he called as he was getting in his car
he said i’m on my way
i’m gonna pick up birdseed
i keep hearing sparrows in the yard
in the dogwood
in the morning
i asked him not to tell everyone else
alright he said
but they all like you
so much more than you like yourself

when he died
his mother called
to talk to me about his funeral guests
she said she wanted
to get to know me
to understand what i was to him

i said i don’t know myself
but i think he did

holy father
save your sermon
i can’t sit through any more of this
just burn his body
just burn his body
i don’t care what his mother says      

i don’t know myself
but i think he did
and i don’t love myself
but i think he did

week fortythree: all the grain is gold

all the grain is gold

send my mama roses
tell my honey don’t quit
put my body in cedar now
comb my hair slick it down 

lay me where the grass grows
higher than the gravestones
lay me down in the cool shade
where the cows graze on the warm days

cause i’ve seen the silo
and all the grain is gold

i’ve been a leaf raker
a singer and a bedmaker
money’s fake power’s worse
fill the day with love and work

i’ve seen the red sun
setting over everyone
burning up a field of rye
like a missile a meteorite

and i’ve seen the silo
and all the grain is gold

cause i woke up in the night
with a fearful heart and a pain in my side
the doctor said okay all right let’s go
i want you to know it’s fine
i want you to know i don’t measure in time
i want you to know that all the grain is gold

so send my mama roses
tell my honey don’t quit
put my body in cedar wood
comb my hair make it look good

dress me in a white shirt
bless me with a kind word
lay me down in the cool shade
where the cows graze on the warm days

cause i’ve seen the silo
and all the grain is gold

week fortytwo: gone pt.3

gone pt.3

she said i’ll take you to the coast
lake erie buffalo
we can watch the fireworks
keep each other laughing through it all

all the whistle in the reeds
all the thunder crack heat
her and i in the dark
everybody else the enemy

and they were coming on
singing their old songs

it’s a dangerous town
it’s a barn burning down
we were always dressing up
hunting for a way to get out

and they were coming on
singing their old songs

but we were gone
through the high beams
on their crime scenes
all her and me
hollering up to god
what you got we don’t want
through the ragweed
forever staggering
writing our songs
hallelujah
crack of dawn
morning came
we were gone

all raining in toronto
gray water in the throttle
left the car to cary ann
caught a ride with cattle to chicago 

never got where we were going
or maybe did and didn’t notice
sparks on a line of hay
shining all the way to the explosion

and they were coming on
singing their old songs

and we were gone
sneaking on the bus
sun just coming up
geese of canada
cliff edge
road swung
river winding
we were gone
through the ragweed
forever staggering
writing our songs
hallelujah
waking up
morning on a high cold dawn
dew frozen on the lawn
we were working on
throat dry
crackle eyed
four claw track of dogs
her and i
hearts wide
high tide coming on

though the high beams
on their crime scenes
all her and me
hollering up to god
what you got we don’t want
through the ragweed
falling gladly
writing our songs
hallelujah
crack of dawn
morning came
we were gone

week fortyone: aunt zo

(a poem. black lives matter.)

aunt zo

you tell your aunt zo you’re feeling low
while she's cooking pastelillos on the stove
you talk about politicians michigans missouris orlandos 

she says she’s gonna love you to the moon
to baghdad then back to baton rouge
she says there’s no stopping that just like there’s no stopping bad news 

if you’re scared you still got a ways to go
if you don’t care then you don’t know

she lays the pastelillos out to dry
drops pigeon peas and bullion into rice
she says you were just five or six when your uncle passed from this life

she takes you to the corner of the room
where she keeps her late husband’s old tools
she says all these are yours to keep now go out and find something to do

if you’re scared you still got a ways to go
if you don’t care then you don’t know

week forty: coyote pass

(a coyote poem)

coyote pass

where have you been
my heart my home my bones my oldest friend

i went to the coyote passing
the wind raging and crying and laughing
my lungs were trees the air came through
i thought i could live there and die there too
but where were you

where did you go
my friend my love my trust my favorite home

i went where the trees were creaking
the dirt floor was warm and bleeding
the wire fence was tight and true
it caught my skin when i went through
so where were you

i went where the sumac stood
fern soft in the gun crack woods
yellow eyes of the north coyote
she was standing still and she was thin and alone
i saw the hunter i saw him shoot
i saw her fall and she saw me too
now where were you
where were you
where were you

week thirtynine: another traveling salesman

another traveling salesman 

“it ain’t hard to second guess yourself when you’re dressing up a wound.”
- michael trent

“the only thing you can ever control is intention.”
- jon stewart

don’t you know what you’re doing here now
don’t you know what you’re doing here now
the road ahead is serpentine
the sky above is spitting rain
don’t you know what you’re doing here now

you’re 3000 miles from your home
you’re 3000 miles from your home
you left a good love
so can’t you even say for what
you’re 3000 miles from your home

and you don’t mind the driving
you see the passing fields
you like going way out in your thoughts
but every night you feel it
that hungry sort of sadness
like there’s some essential thing you haven’t got
you thought you’d be a kind man by now
but you’re not

there’s a boy at the rest stop smoking
there’s a boy at the rest stop smoking
you say you don’t have any cash
then you feel bad so you go back
he rolls his eyes and takes what you give him

don’t you know what you’re doing here now
don’t you know what you’re doing here now
and if they all believed in you
would that make what you’re saying true
don’t you know what you’re doing here now

you don’t mind the moving
but you miss her all the time
you pretend to be a traveler but you’re not
and every night you feel it
that quiet hungry sadness
like a crucial act of kindness you forgot
and you say you’re getting better all the time

you don’t mind the driving
but you’re going round in circles
and you can’t see as clearly as you thought
and every night you feel it
that hungry sort of sadness
like there’s some essential thing you never got
you thought that you’d be satisfied by now
but you’re not

you get home in the dead of the night
you get home in the dead of the night
you shut the door and get in bed
she lies her head against your chest
you’re home in the dead of the night

week thirtyeight: you looked so alone to me

you looked so alone to me

you looked so alone to me
you looked so alone to me
everyone was talking laughing
doing all the things that always happen
but you looked so alone to me

i got all this time and nothing to say
i got all this time and nothing to say
i think we might like each other
but i sit and drink then i pour another
i got all this time and i’ve got nothing to say

except you look so alone to me
and i like your william steig tattoo
you know i met him once at a barbecue
or actually you know what i think that was a dream

everybody’s going back home
everybody’s going back home
we don’t stay out late like we used to
chasing each other by the light of the moon
no everybody’s going back home

you and i happen to walk out together
you and i happen to walk out together
i said hey did you have fun
you said you wish you’d brought someone
then you got in your car and i got in mine

bah

week thirtyseven: instrumental #4