gigondas

thirty shuffles
forty arrives

fangless fear
spirals
motioning

nothing doing that ain't been
done wrong before

Old man Death
he says
knows my liver
see
my shaky fingers

I hear a snake hiss
as poison pumps
from brain to vein

he takes a shot
finishes his beer
reorders

tells me
now I need two more shots
to ensure
blackout

stumbles away

its early and he seems old
its early
its time to go

"There's no holy muse who speaks through you. There's no spirit feeding you lines from above (or below). You have to do the work. You have to make it happen. You have to work to get yourself to that point where it suddenly seems easy, seems like magic. Sometimes you do it and it makes your day and you turn in your script knowing...
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then here I am
reduced to dust

swinging girl
working the pole
she smells
of lavendar
roses
candles
and cigarettes

heavy
eyes
made up
wearing
black and green

butterflies
beneath her right
tit

sharp hips
long legs
dangling earrings

her high heels shine
as my hands
offer a tip
thinking
knowing

how fake
all this
shit
is

well
fuck me
fuck me
fuck me

please

"She don't think much
about what she done
or the funny feelings she feels
no she don't"

Fuckin' nostalgia

To quote one wag, "even her breath sounds stupid"

two months five days
finally

Commonwealth
equals homemaking

the pup chasing leaves
falling

the oak trees
and old houses

whispering something warm
is coming

lovers
no longer running

we confess and forgive
make love

plant kisses
like promises

stay with me enchanted love
stay with me

love like this is rare
and epic

and evidently
ready for challenges

the warm wood of our bedroom floor...
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here's a bit of an accounting
the last thirty five days equals

nine doctor visits
one marriage
one honeymoon

one cracked back causes
one slipped disc

one is fired
one wants to quit
one new part-time job

a lot of pot
a lot of wine

one blessing
two houses
three beds

one sick dog
sick twice

two cars fixed and broken
one terminal diagnosis

one...
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