diving
  dying
 driving
    some song 
          we sing
but I'm just
  out west
       the birds don't listen
           they're in the studio
     some people shop for shirts
and then change them
   mid-drink
the glasses pile up
    you bought a
nightmare
sweater
   and I got a
sleepy t shirt
but we returned them
 after the holidays
   70 % off
     wasn't enough


   

green pleas
 from
the saints
  barricaded in
 bad manners
     we wish upon
your star
  -some are kept from the door
  others are paragraphed
like hallway voices



 

embryo 

formaldehyde

    carbonate 

    coin

    dead indian coin

          chief wahoo 

's gotta go

       sinking in the rain

      dead indian coin

      there's no tomorrow 

like yesterday 

                what does that mean 

     nothing

Jerry's Mach-1 was turned over
    in a ditch
   smoking and rattling
     Jerry crawled out the broken side window
    his scalp bleeding badly
     Lance didn't look too good
 his head didn't seem to be
right on his body
  and he wasn't moving
  the girl in the back was screaming
     Eddie yelled at me
  "Drive to that farm and call an ambulance!"
I stared off at the farmhouse
it was painted pink

a cop bought me lunch
   at the Stroll Inn Diner
    he didn't stick around
       paid the waitress when I placed my order
          and got back in his car
              and drove off

I stole some clothes
    from the Goodwill store
         on Elm St.
and changed in the bathroom
of the BP station
  I had a dollar twenty seven in my pocket
and I bought a can of coke
   I hid on a freight train headed to
    Missouri
maybe my brother would put me up
for a while
   -probably not


  

I lost my compass
   and stared hard at the sun
     which way was west
   check the moss on the trees?
      a stick at noon
 didn't really matter though
fuck it
   I chose a direction
and kept walking
   soon I saw trees
       and small shacks
            the dogs were barking
                and a man came out with a gun
                    "What do you want?"
                         "Water."

trying to catch up
to the rat race
   reading
       Sam Shepard
    in a chair
staring at sagauro cactii
    there's no joy
in the
    saloon
     just shouting
        and fighting
   someone lost a tooth -
     for breakfast
 I had eggs
and beans
  and beets
   and cold coffee
not even iced
   still
 I'm not a stranger
   to these parts
     I know the back doors
and who's
not going home tonight
   but it doesn't matter
to me
   just another
      rainy day in the city of
angles

ack the
rain
dripping
     drip
     drip
             drip
  where is the
doormouse
   the sawhet owl
     the stinkbug
   over yonder
way
over yonder
    you can breathe easy
now
   please do
 there's no food in the house
but the maid is laying in a pool of blood
    (not hers)
    so much to think about
maybe tomorrow

dave's old place

GREATEST HITS Vol II

(bedraggled

purveyor of scrabblesian

aramaics

His half shekel existence

was eroded in arctic fashion

a sno cone vista
apanopolic down comfort

for one low price!)

there's some
real stuff
 out there
   it's not all
fake
is it?
    the heart of darkness
 is where the home is
 haha
turn on the damn light
motherfucker
the spiders
know this
   and scramble
in the light
 put them outside
 no not the spiders
please
let me in
oh
  well
I'll get a sandwich
italian
  with oil and vinegar
 the eastern european waitress
laughed
and
ridiculed
my order
   what the actual fuck
haha
 but we did
see the the little black figurines
eating watermelon
wearing burlap sack clothes
    and playing a little banjo
   somebody
spent some time on this shit
   where was the little dolphin
five sank ships
four damaged
  that's a lot of dead men
but
  WW2

the 

   Ace 

          low cost 

   memory 

         dirty lenses

     wiping the day 

 from 

my 

    half baked 

   drunken 

   bullshit 

 stumbling and 

throwing reeses's cups 

               individually sealed

  dancing 

and giving zero 

fucks

well maybe a few

 still

 this ain't no way to live

standing
in the
  riding in
the
 awash in the
    torrid
lucid
horrid
  lurid
(?)
  vitalini
fotografia
   b&w
tiled
  surrounded by
  italo calvino
from the past
  in the trees
 in the boheme
cigar store
(you come to a cafe
and order Coca-Cola?)
  

the dream
dance
of the
watermelon figurines
    one round fat quarter
  eyes of clay
  watching for years  
test your love
  naughty but nice
 the opium den
   and the
end of the trail
just some rags
  blowing in the wind

the fol
de rol
 of sunshine
is not
to be
taken
or forsaken
  bed mates
sleep
soundly
in a Martin Luther King Jr.
  megaphone
   parade
    of little white and asian children
      in my now rich neighborhood
(all the baptist churches now closed)
 

burn it down ©2017

if that's coffee
   you are my sunshine

FOUR
  you said
 like you were golfing
    felt like a bruised forehead
or an ambush of
 the count
 coconuts
  falling
are real not fake news
   deaths thereby
 not wholly uncommon
    coconut water
   deaths are
rare
 but possible?
  poisoned news water
     killing me by degrees
  not softly
each a tiny sharp
blow
  to my senses
  gotta get paid, right
bitches?
 keep at it 'cause
    not doing so
 wouldn't matter
nothing matters,
right?
bitches.

the rift
 of the unknown
 archetype
  sub dominant bs
  maker
- strewn like leaves
   parodied
with ash covered fingers
   assailed with converted
  brigadier calvary tunics
 awash in reminders,
reconstituted
   cardboard
   literary
 pirouettes -
the belt buckle
of the harasser
   the steam from
the hot coffee
   in a snow storm
slipping
on frozen ground
breathing
 and
smoking
   dog ends
  woof

down
to the song
of
the mushroom
  down to the cry
of the crescent roll
   extoll
thy virtue
in
crumbled buttery goodness
  hark
to the new year
  cold glass of water
giveth pale sunshine
westerly
 low
and bright
eyes
with sunglasses