Thankful for ghosts

When I heard someone playing beautiful piano fun                                               I wish I’d taken lessons when I was young

Yesterday I heard a louder squeal                                                                    glasses flew off my face                                                                                             my teeth in a steering wheel

Flashing lights
Another hotel night
Don’t care if I wake alive

A Christmas rhyme
We all wish the time, (would fly)
And skip the days between
But when it’s gone we miss
The taste of milky lips
Thing is life is but a dream

Theres a Winter ghost
coming up the coast
and I want to go out and play
as you hide inside
watch through windows white
yes you’ll have something to say
as I slip and slide
Snowflakes on tongue decide
to become the beginning of this stream

Out here is another world
Maybe another song – a different girl
Who will fill my cup this queen

I didn’t hit the brakes
fast enough to avoid this reason why
But here I am today
(thankful for that I can say)
at last tough – a boy with seasoned eyes
Open and wide
There’ll be time (to close) when grey

When I heard someone
play a guitar tune
I wish it was me again
Younger yet and singing with you
Dancing on my bed

But when I Banged my head…

I smelled your sweet perfume
And know you’re with me in this room
My silence was just boring – an excuse

It all happens so fast
Like the strike of a match
As we watch the world ignite
Falling embers cars collide

I used to think
People who sang in the streets
Were crazy and confused
But thanks to you
I know the truth
“They’re not alone in padded rooms”

And your instrument
with its soft lament
is always in tune
Amber, Mary, Stacy.  June

Lying next to me



To you

I’m more thankful than most
Thankful for ghosts

Touching walls with fingertips

There’s just a single path

Down the hallway filled with trash

And I just scratch away till it bleeds


Why won’t Jesus come for me

The room grew colder when


My eyes – with gangrene

Your (last breath) was taken in

Fists. breakin

Lovely things again

Through every door

Into each brand new room

I look there evermore

Faint light in all this gloom

Could that be you?

I can’t pull the shades down enough to hide

(the light)

And all the smiles from “the ones” outside

For whom things will always be alright

I grind my teeth all night

Please leeeeeeeeeeeeet me in

(Why do I run and hide)

I want to juuuuuuuuust be friends

(I clasp my hands inside)

When will this evvvvvvvvvvvvvvver end.?

I roll over to my other side

To face the wall another night

People get paid to do this


Theres a good chance that I might die tonight and

2 young boys hanging out at the bar. from Michigan we had some drinks and then went their way and I’m laying here having heart palpitations

Young men are cool you know they just wanna do the thing smoke some weed hang out at the bar and ask me about things they’ll never get like social security and women

mostly we all just need some new material

Blah blah

Bob is his name is

Bob and that’s all there was

people told me what’s rough

about to [sneeze]

bob’s crazy

All I knows is that his blah blah is Bob

And O his name is. Whatever.

I never met him but everyone said look out

because. used to date my girlfriend

And we broke up and now I sound like

BILL muRray when I talk and I own a yacht

and I never remember her name but I saw

Still remember

worrying about Bob

What we should’ve known

I let the phone ring til it stopped

In sudden silence I felt completely alone

That creak in the floor

The way the door opened by itself

What you think was a ghost…

I licked my fingers and pinched out the flame

Looking for answers in the dark

I pretended to be asleep until she left.

Only to wish her back but it’s too late.

I clutch her favorite pillow

That window curtain swayed

The ceiling fan chain

…There are no random spirits here.

These ghosts are you, reliving your life

After it’s gone

Watching you not pick up the phone

Wishing you would

Because regrets are what never die

That ball you had as a boy

Is now rolling down the empty hall

Given that chance again

-little Tim plays with sand in the backyard

Older Tim remembers being stung by that bee

The swing is moving with no breeze

The remembrance is the wind. Run inside-

When you hear something or feel a tickle on your neck

Listen to yourself

To this day

I had an event when I was. 17.

I wrote about it for a class project

back in ‘93.

I tucked that piece away some place

Just something I didn’t care to read

When I turned 30 I wrote of it again.

I focused on what details my memory could bend

I kept the words light so as not to offend

I never finished this one, didn’t know how to end.

Eventually I tried to keep the story alive

I sat down to write it out now aged 35

But once again a few pages in

And the passion in me died

So just this year, I challenged myself

But first I took the others off the shelf

And read what I had said

At 23

I wrote the scene

full of sorrow and regret

I crashed a car

I bore the scars

And I wanted to repent

My words so lucent

Detailed and to a tee

Brought me back to that day

When I drove into a tree

But when I read what I had wrote

Seven years later. Well I choked

I guess I forgot how much I’d seen

Because I laughed and joked

Seemed like someone else’s notes

Some kind of distant fuzzy dream

So I turned to me

What I was about to read

Another person later down the line

And it was once again

Like another strange event

All these word they seemed like lies

Do we become so distant to what we are?

Does memory fade and harden like scars?

I’m 45.

Still alive.

Despite living recklessly.

My only regret

Is having hid what I meant

Writing experimentally

In order n


I never said or cried

A way to I denied

When I fucked up that night

She died


Stuck on the San Fran bridge

You were making me a mayo sandwich

On whole wheat bread

And I was thinking, especially madmen have to play by rules

No one understands a genius, so he has to hide in plain sight.

Failed thunder sneaks within the waves of algorithms

And we tap our brakes waiting for the big one

The breeze is nice and the view never gets old

If you want them not to notice

Then do what you’re told