don't look up to the stars

heaven protect 

children and sailors

sailors and drunken men

somewhere past the Kuiper belt

past the ring of babies unbaptized

where a star is just any star

that's where you'll see her

curled in smoke

don't look up to the stars

this nothing is permanent

this one is burning

(this one is burning so bright)

this one is glowing

(this one will not last the night)

the only forever is 

a nothing about nothingness

but that was all

before your time

this one's a baby

(this one is burning so bright)

this one is dying

(this one will not last the night)

the light in your eyes is

a prehistoric instinct

but that was all

before your time

this one exploded

(this one is burning so bright)

this one's forever

(this one will not last the night)

that star was extinguished

a million years ago

but that was all

before your time

heaven protect 

children and sailors 

sailors and drunken men 

Attenborough's Day Off

[[ A description of a real morning but with the observer transformed from a groggy parent eating toast into a bit of a voyeuristic, lecherous naturalist. ]]

Even the cat conspires,

the cat and Captain Underpants,

to douse my dream,

so I sit up, Nosferatu

on a hinge. Sunday morning

early, when a decent man 

would sleep, is full of sound.

Outside the open window

long bare legs are

flexing as she sways,  

her auburn hair flows down 

her back in early sun, 

her head is tilted to his, 

her eyes are in his eyes,

their tongues are tasting 

one last clinking beer.

They have so much to say 

but cannot keep their mouths 

apart for Jesus going on an hour, 

and her peculiar rocking on 

her long bare legs as if 

she sways to unheard music 

or as if -- they look around, 

he finds an opening in the 

wire fence around the lot 

behind them and she crouches

through alone.

He stands and smokes and looks 

the other way while she 

wades through tall grass and yarrow,

indigenous to these parts, 

to squat and disappear and

bare her bountiful cheeks

to all the creatures of the field, 

then reemerges.

They toss their bottles in the grass 

and walk to the first bus

before a panther falls from a tree. 

Imagined Geography 5: Vienna Song

this is Vienna

beneath this dome

under the car park

this is my home

hopping the turnstiles

dodging the landlord

looking for something

hidden here before

under Vienna

city in ruins

city of ghosts

all up in smoke

you take the fast train

nightime from Linz

something seen once

never seen since

not since Vienna

dispossessed

[[ An ambiguous song about an ambiguous persona imagining a home he (could be she) used to know. Someone else is in the home now. A feeling of dispossession, real or imagined, some sort of revenge planned or fantasized. Fire and smoke imagery, maybe imagining the old chimney smoking, maybe imagining arson, maybe just a crazy phone call, maybe all in his head. The old phone is there for strangeness and to evoke an old time, dialing the number like a secret combination on a safe, with the phone's "cradle" doing double duty for imagery. Senses (taste and smell, fingers, warming, creaking) to introduce an uneasy nearness. And is he thinking of someone else (an invader? just a new owner) in his old home -- or is that "someone" just the persona sneaking back and creepily intruding in (calling on) his old home? It's coming from inside the house! Or not. ]]

smoke will be coiling

over our old home

sparks will be floating

floating on air

someone feels like he belongs now

in our old home

someone tastes the fruit still growing

in our garden

someone smells the flowers planted

by our mother

smoke will be coiling

over our old home

sparks will be floating

floating on air

someone opens creaking cupboards

in our kitchen

someone warms his chilly fingers

round our fire

someone feels like he belongs now

in our old home

now I am calling

dialing the rotary

my combination

into the past

lift the receiver

out of the cradle

lift the receiver

out of the past

fire will be burning

up through the blue air

sparks will be floating

floating on air

Magnetic Mountain

I saw a picture of 

Magnetic Mountain

hidden in smoke

a mountain of iron

city built under 

a mountain of iron

spin the clock backward

roll back the calendar

fix every compass on

Magnetic Mountain

mama blew the roof off

and everyone died

but the miracle child
but the miracle child
they found in the frost

intentional love song 5: a little smoke

woman in a black dress

smoking secret cigarettes

says come and be the last man 

I'll ever kiss this year

roll down the highway

stop to buy some smoke

look around for a place to let

and drive on, drive on

woman in another state

says she's got a couch to spare

if I don't mind a little smoke

I say I don't mind 

a little smoke

she said the last man I ever kissed

was the last man I ever kissed

climb the dark stairs

what's this bubbling 

up in my blood?

what's steaming

under the hood?

mother in the garden

fire in the kitchen 

mother in the garden

fire again

put down the pony 

frogs in the basement

neighbors on the party line

frogs in the well

lights in the drive

blue, red, and turning 

mother in the garden

something is burning

under the car at night

holding a torch for father

smell of spilled gasoline

orange of cigarette

smoke up the chimney

the game on teevee

twisting the aerial

pictures of snow

caught in the thunder

running in the rain 

wet camera jolting 

and jolting and jolting 

stories to 

sleep on

the dark and 

the bells

Nancy, Sikes,

Silver, Kim,

shipwrecked and 

kidnapped

and

climb the dark stairs

tempest and midsummer

salt and vinegar

the Russians in winter

alone in the woods

under the car at night

holding a torch for father

smell of spilled gasoline

orange of cigarette

mother in the garden

fire in the kitchen 

mother in the garden

fire again

stories to sleep on

climb the dark stairs

summer is the season of fire

[[ summer wildfires ]]

someone set this mountain on fire

while we were sleeping 

coming back by daylight, you feel

the flame still creeping

this is where our home used to be

now all that's standing

is you and me

you see it on the horizon

you think there's plenty of time

and then the devil comes 

walking [[ two syllables to sound like a siren ]]

up your[[ two syllables to sound like a siren ]] 

street one [[ two syllables to sound like a siren ]]

house at a time

someone burned this valley down

while we were dreaming

you hear the roofs fall in on themselves

and horses screaming

this is where our home used to be

now the smoke's rolling

down to the sea

I think I heard somebody 

praying in the smoke 

to Santa Ana.

burning wire

what the hell?

smoke pours out

of the empty lot

like a burning tire

what the hell?

a shopping cart

and a hill of dirt

and a smoking fire

what the hell?

a vacant man

on vacant land

burning stolen wire

he's looking through me

I am the noise in his ear

I am a nothing to fear

he's burning wire

[[ across the street ]]