what a 1st draft looks like

freewriting the hunt


birds
in hand
unhanded &

got away

all of them
journals or
films recalled

long gone, yet
real enough, at least
until waking

cheap 12-pack
& politics
to kiss them off

revenge enough
& construct
decoys, my outer selves. I’m sick

of love, Bob sings
but in
the thick of it. Yes.

You will lose. We are born
into it, the losing
to learn

to paraphrase
overquoted Nietsche
like some college kid in black

when I was 22 & thought
I was hot shit
w/my band & all my other

quasi bile
I digress. I don’t have time to parenthesize
this aside. I’m getting tired.

I feel better.
There will be others.

lyrics/ yeah?

(I normally don't do this, but wtf? here are some 1st-drafts for a new tune)


breakup song '8

I has Johnson's "Love in Vain"
I meets ladies on the train
I is me here, I is sane
I's an artist, I feels pain

& I's alright; you won't hear I complain, luv
& I gets tight & even the best wine leaves a stain

....

o, yeah, go there, take I's home
I is orphans, rolling stones
back on the pavement, tumbleweed jones
god-sent parliament spike into the to the bone

(chorus)

find I quietly on the fringe
dirt on I's fingers, mouthfulla minge
binge I singe I sleeps alone & whinge
heartbreak, housebreak, jailbreak hinge

of a thigh & I's alright ...

(chorus)

pre-dawn birthday haiku

snow stuck to cars, hard
sugar to frost my waking.
embedded footprints/tire-tracks.