November 12, 2019

Mystic Girl

mystic girl dressed in your gypsy clothes 
it’s a look you like
you say you can tell what the future holds
you like to be thought of as a little touched
by special powers a medium to the dead
some people don’t believe so much
think you’re a little off in the head


you sit and look into your crystal ball
tellin’ me what I should look out for
but you don’t know where you’re goin’ at all
reading palms to pay the rent
relying on your grasp of the sixth sense
your occupation is of a mystical bent
your room is filled with sweet incense


a belief in the after world and apparitions
not of this world but of another
the haunted and all kinds of superstition
you got a big belief in ESP
for fun you like to visit the cemetery
mystic girl where do you think I’ll be?
just tell me good stuff, nothin’ scary

November 10, 2019

Silver Moon

after a night of some serious drinking--
snowshoes--whiskey and schnapps very potent
friends dropping me off
I was on my knees and felt like I should say a prayer
but that would have been hypocritical of me
so my pants got dirty without religion
I leaned up against the old brown house with broken shingles
thankful to be home sweet home
couldn’t find my keys to get in
spend the night outside in the backyard in the wet grass
wasn’t fussy at that point, just wanted to go to sleep or die
under the eyes of the silver moon
just watch over me and keep me safe mr. moon
laying there I began to feel a cool mist falling on me
heal me mother earth 
pure ecstasy I was feeling 
the softness of the ground, the wetness of the rain
reinvigorated and remembered the back porch wasn’t locked
couldn’t stay in the rain ALL night
lead rubber legs jelly up the stairs seeing through a kaleidoscope 
fumbled with the door handle
there was a plaid print couch but I didn’t make it and didn’t care
laid on the plastic green indoor outdoor carpet 
next to my muddy work shoes and an old dog toy
fell asleep until I rolled over on my keys and they stabbed me
they weren’t there earlier I swear but maybe they were
I could of pulled myself off the floor with considerable effort
got in the house 
but I was drunkenly content till morning
shine through the aluminum windows and a bird tapping on the fiberglass roof 
false awakening but so beautifully true

November 7, 2019

November Day

morning yawns a frosty one this far north
calls for hot cocoa in the chipped Green Bay Packers cup
that belonged to my father
now dead for many years and buried ‘neath the frozen tundra
I remember that I didn’t shed any tears
but I had a few beers in his honor at the corner bar
cold window pane graffiti blocks my view 
of neighborhood houses with exhausted paint
and cyclone and wooden fences that make a good neighbor 
birthday coming up and I think I’ll have a surprise party 
it’ll be a surprise if anyone shows up to my house
nobody wants to come to this decaying side of town
dying city full of dying folks
heart attacks and strokes
friends moved away—escaped the rot that gnaws at you
factories almost all dormant now-rusting into their graves
jobs and prosper-i-ty now a thing of the past
I sip my cocoa under the stained glass light in the kitchen 
the one my mother always wanted and bought a long time ago
she’s dead now too—it’ll be five years in June
younger brother gone, I’m the only one left
me and Pepper my black lab who keeps me company 
and doesn’t judge me when I sometimes break down