Saturday, August 8, 2020

I Can't Hold Her Any Tighter

I love her as much as a nun loves Jesus
I could kneel to her ‘til my knees got raw
She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever known
And the prettiest girl I ever saw
I love her like Johnny loved June Carter
Each day a little deeper in the fire
But the flames don’t burn, they don’t even hurt me
And nothing can quench this burning desire
I can’t hold her any tighter
For I’m afraid that she might break
I can only give what she wants to take
I can’t hold her any tighter
I’m afraid that she might break

Friday, August 7, 2020

Slow Motion Oreo (July 2013)

   Back in 2013 I happened to be thinking about the fact that I'd never had any experiences with psychedelic drugs (still haven't), but I was curious. So I asked a few friends to tell me about their experiences, and then I wrote them up and called them Second Hand Trips. This was the first one....

Second Hand Trips: Volume 1, The Slow Motion Oreo

We are sitting across from each other on the two twin beds in my bedroom, one on each bed.  I don’t know how long it has been since we ate the acid, because time has ceased to exist. 

I have Oreos.  My friend does not.  She says, “Give me an Oreo”.  But, I don’t.  She says it again, “Hey, give me an Oreo”.  I still don’t.  There’s no reason, I just don’t.   One more time she says, “Give me a fucking Oreo”.   Quickly, too quickly for normal eyes to even see, I pick up an Oreo and throw it at her, as hard as I can, sideways, Frisbee style, propelled by the force of my index finger at top speed.  As soon as it leaves my hand it slows down.  Everything slows down.  My heart, the breeze, the particles of light….and the Oreo….everything is moving in slow motion.  My friend, also very slowly but with maximum effort and super-human grace, dives off the bed she’s sitting on (because my throw is way off target).  She stretches out her hand toward the Oreo, her body suspended in air, moving, but just barely.  It’s like she’s flying, except nothing can fly as slowly as that.  And it’s not floating, either, exactly, because it’s so full of purpose and direction and focus:  she must have the Oreo, I can see the determination in her eyes…eyes which haven’t blinked in the hours it seems to have been since she leapt off the bed, reaching desperately for the cream filled cookie.

Finally, after an unimaginably long time, she has the Oreo in her hand and is lying on the floor. 

How much time had passed?  2 seconds, 2 minutes, 2 hours, 2 days, 2 eternities?  It doesn’t matter.  I threw it, she caught it.  My eyes know what they saw:  my friend flew in slow motion across my bedroom and caught the Oreo cookie she needed so badly.  It’s impossible, but it happened.  I know what I saw.  But maybe I’m the only one.   Maybe it didn’t seem the same to her. 

“Wow”, I say.  “How did you do that?”  

“It was easy”, she said.  “You threw it in slow motion.”

Saturday, August 1, 2020

Two Days Since Yesterday

 As soon as you leave, I miss you
One hour feels like two days since yesterday
Time is elastic                   
Stretching and contracting
But we can’t break it      
We can never break it   
The time we’re together goes so fast
One hour feels like less than a heartbeat
Time is elastic   
Stretching and contracting          
But we can’t break it
We can never break it   
Now it’s been two days since yesterday
I must have crossed the international dateline somewhere
It’s been two days since yesterday
I almost forget the scent of your hair      
Two days since yesterday
And I miss you
It’s like Einstein said       
Time is relative                 
Won’t you come and sit in my lap for a while

Saturday, July 25, 2020

Nighttime Snowfall

nighttime snowfall
covers all
in blackness and white
neon lights
fizzle and blink
as everything sinks
beneath the weight
of mounting flakes

Saturday, July 18, 2020

Like Lou Said

Ah, well, like Lou said,
those were different times.
It was weird to be weird,
now it’s commonplace.
Still there’s one thing that hasn’t
ever really changed:
You still take a big chance
just by having a face.
Richard Hell told you so,
And he ought to know.
It’s still a mixed-up world,
Just as muddled- and shook-up
As it was when the Kinks
Sang that song about Lola.
And, yeah, it’s been raining,
Like Dylan said it would,
Sometimes it’s rained pretty hard.
But some stains won’t wash off,
And some ghosts never die.
It’s way past the time for your tears.
Windy has stormy eyes,
Everyone knows it’s true.
And downtown, Petula said,
Is where everything waits for you.
But the wind that fans the flames
That would burn your downtown down
Was blowing long before
Thomas Jefferson
Ever declared a thing.

Friday, July 17, 2020

Her Name (June 2013)

I write her name on the head of a pin
And etch her name on the back of my hand
I scream her name from the rooftop at night
Her name seeps out of my pores like the sweat of a runner in the final mile
Every song contains her name
Her face appears in the shapes of the clouds
Her face is in the foam of my coffee
My mirror shows me her face instead of my own
Her face is reflected in random shop windows
I see her face in every drop of rain
My answering machine contains her voice
The pounding of my heart echoes her voice to me
The wind carries her voice across the miles
Her voice caresses my sleeping mind
I hear her voice in the silence of the dawn
Her hair contains the vastness of the universe
I hide in her hair like a frightened child
The wildness of her hair ensnares my fingers
The light of the world is captured in her hair’s glorious shine
The darkness of her hair makes the night sky seem like noon
I call her name and she is there
Her face floats above my face
Her voice whispers in my ear
Her hair surrounds me
I am home

Saturday, July 11, 2020

You Seaside Walking

This song pumps out of my heart’s echo chambers
and finds its way to you, seaside walking.
Such is the miracle of us:
time and space collapse and we collide,
you, seaside walking, and me here typing this song.
Each morning I peer out from half-closed eyes,
see the sun shine in my window.
A blink and it’s over, a blink and it’s gone,
and I am lying my head down again
to sleep the night away.
The days roll by and away
beyond the horizon.
Through the wide-open eyes of dream,
I see you before me.
This time I will not blink,
I will not let you go beyond the limits of my sight.
A kind of comfort that can’t be found
at the bottom of a whiskey bottle,
a kind of beauty that can’t be found
in any runway model,
that’s you… that’s you.
Something so beautiful
it could split the world in two,
that’s you… that’s you.
Yet such is the miracle of you:
the world remains whole,
grows warmer, brighter,
day and night,
beneath the blazing glory of you,
and time and space collapse and we collide,
you, seaside walking, me here typing
this song from my heart to yours.