Free
Verse
maxwell's
silver hammer
hammer out your differences
hammer in the morning
hammer after noon
hammer after dark
hammer out solutions
hammer hammer hammer
hammer out frustration
hammer hammer
hammer with a vengeance
hammer out the fear
i dont
want goodbyes anymore
i learned to say goodbye so
easy
from traveling all my life
from always packing my baggage
at night packing boxes
looking at maps
pitching my tent of a life near water
just a leaf kissed by whatever wind does prevail
across the planet i have reached
through the canopy of trees
peered over mountains and dived underwater
swimming through curiously
allowing goodbyes to stack up in my closet
little boxes of shoes never worn again
next to
me
in the cafe a man pours
his coffee onto his saucer he
slurps from it like a horse
greedily but slow
deliberate he
pulls a half-eaten bagel
from his tattered
yet magical paper bag
smears a psychedelic sort
of soft serve butter
with a flourish
across the top
and suddenly he
clucks
like a chicken/there it is
like a chicken
consumed
by the task at hand
you never
give me your money
you give me blue
you give me yellow
and red
and green
and black
all kinds of grey
and all the other mysterious
and cupreous colours of the rainbow
moon
i heave the heavy full
moon like charles atlas
up onto my shoulders
a dusty bag of cement
it weighs me down
bringing me to my knees
a skyscraper planted a
stadium slapped over me
a dam holding water
squeezed from tamed
raging rivers maybe
ill mold a concrete path
or stepping stones
and just walk away
my bag
is made of paper perhaps
from some butchers shop
the skin of butchered trees
bleached white and creased
like a starched dress-shirt
i stuff it full until it bulges
with pretty poems and pain
i send it to all the ends of
the earth and to your door
at this
weekend's folk festival
nestled at the foot of the
rockies
just after the flurry of rainfall ends
we listen to guy clark
we listen to the waifs
as the red sun goes down
we stand at the creek
watching children climb the canyon wall
secretly we worry that they will slide back down
we watch them splashing around
arms full of stones and hope
they're building
dams and little stories in the sand
you might think what a strange place
to find a miniature replica of stonehenge
water trickling through and around it
so this is my life back in the mountains
back home again where we clap and we
clap and we cheer for kris kristofferson
underneath the big dipper
and orion
and we understand how lucky we are
mean mr.
mustard
really he isn't mean at all
he's just a writer
an artist
insufferably shy
perpetually preoccupied
hiding behind cameras and glasses
and pens
taking it all to heart
staying
awake
with sheer determination
i will my eyes to stay open
focusing first on one thing
then on another far across
the room from where i sit
like the picture on the wall
the chairs and coffee table
or the sofa or the fireplace
of wood and chrome pipes
that wrap their shiny arms
around sheet metal molding
scatman
contrary to popular
demand he's the
rocker he's the
one he's the
entertainer gonna'
stay up all night
every night playing
bass axe grinding
with the king
and the queen
and little richard
of rock n roll
royalty
polythene
pam
perhaps parading
pleasantly plush
popular pretty
perfectly painted on
pricey petite
polythene pants
pausing plausibly
playfully plum
purposely pensive
potentially preoccupied
partly pretending and
plenty proud
forgiveness
is a gift we can only
give to ourselves
it cannot be coaxed
or demanded
or expected
never borrowed
it knows no guilt
it knows all things
she came
in through the bathroom window
someone should have told
her
there's
not
a
sliver
of
difference
between
torment
and
love
someone should have seen
this cat
stopped by to smoke a bowl
last night before work
he's from around the corner
just a friendly fellow
who shows up now and then
likes a toke now and then
okay okay okay okay
really he's just a cat
nothing less nothing more
and there was no bowl between us
just the smooth rocky mountain air
and darkness and not at all
like my friend rafal imagined
