face going on

she stomped up

something to say face going on

I find your stuff oh so serious

oh really? I asked

more from boredom than inquiry

you write about terrible terrible things

are you sure you read me?

oh yes all that exposition & you don’t rhyme ever

let me stop you I tried with a smile

I do rhyme now & then putting in the odd end

to catch you out like I do with my humour

I slide something in try looking on lines 5 or 8

thinking that’d keep her reading for a while longer

& if it wasn’t funny to her

that was to me


I wore the vinyl through

bought another for the scratches

as this played on in the night

looping over & over

caught by the sound

the lyric the blues

just another body singing to me

understanding the pain

the loss things ex lovers do

had a cassette for the car

‘til that twisted in knots

the heat of the cd left on play

& I played that over & over

listening so now I know the lyrics

radio ep live extended versions

my incantations in the day the night

try to sing the hurts away

until eventually the groove is burned

there into me scarred deep

looping over & over in the night

crowding out thoughts of you

until I fall


dressed to the nines

Barrio bus stop

I saw her every day

dressed to the nines

waiting for the gau gau

early morning waa waa

take her into the city

trying to catch her eye

tho’ she was having none

didn’t stop me trying

eyes held down tight

wanting no one to see

the shack she her family

had built from wood & tin

waiting to earn enough

move them to an address

somewhere in the ‘burbs

& I would tell her

none of that matters to me

& no doubt she would say

for a blanco guey

wanting tacos

on the cheap

I would say that

wouldn’t i?


I had the feeling

she had turned me inside out

exposed all nerve endings

set me them on fire

that the world could end

& she’d be eating popcorn

sucking on a straw coke

enjoying the demise watching

the whole shit show going dark

but all it was

just one more betrayal

from another flawed being

I’d thought worth giving me to

I was wrong about that

& the world ending too

& now I’m less sad about one of these

been to college

knew all about everything

including the fact

that I stunk

while according to him

I knew nothing about anything

me n Socrates

are always good for that

I suggested soft

what frightened him most

is he was frightened of me

but couldn’t let himself know that

so he threw all his shit

his own shadow world

onto me

wanted a verbal fight

because with fists

he knew he’d lose

laid petty passive word traps

while I laughed at these

which only enraged him more

is why he said I stunk

& when I said

we finally got down to it eh?

this school days playground stuff

the bewilderment on his face

being called out

I guess though college

had taught him lots

he hadn’t learned



no dog in the fight

I’d be nursing a beer

waiting for friends with change

classic observer mode

man with no dog in the fight

watching waiting listening

clocking the scene

& in they’d come

the handsome men

looking watching wary

while the women

always but always

looked around

checking out the competition

seeing to be seen

their glance would fly over me

I wasn’t a would-be suitor

any competition for the handsome man

just a fella no dog in the fight

nursing a beer

waiting for change

watching the wind create waves

a rule we had

time to talk

so we walked up & over a high long hill

trudging over well trodden steps

watching the wind create waves

there in the tall grass

the rule we had

to not talk through our shit feelings

in the shit space we’d made them in

so here we were

climbing a long high hill

panting between breaths

the furiousness of feelings

I feel XX

when you do XX

when you say XX

your actions mean this to me

I feel

& holding on to the second rule

only listening to the words being said

not responding except to acknowledge

not in a passive way

how could that ever be

when climbing a high long hill?


my little pocket note book

at the ready

this little stretch of coast


for inspiration to happen

as I stop to sit

perch on the grass

but the wind would not

let me be

flipping the pages

tearing at my hair

whipping my eyes

so I moved on a quiet space

there below ancient trees

out of sight of the sun

hoping for a still wind

but she found me

whirling around my ears

flapping at my shirt

tearing any thoughts from my head

numbing my fingers


all just

to slow me down

slept in

another bolt hole another lay

this was love she said

but somewhere beneath the words

my body knew

as I slept through another day

I’d do what I had to do

felt was appropriate

hit the numbers ring the bell

waiting for something

to show me the way

hoping one of us would blink

let the other out of this

I’d turn over pull the covers up

hear her talk from the kitchen

he doesn’t move just sleeps

wait for a cross word an accusation

I could use for motivation

reason to leave