New Years Eve 2009

It’s really easy to feel sorry for yourself
with your family's weakened voices in your ear
the surgery was successful
the cancer has spread though
not sure how far


London’s fireworks have fired and everyone is at the pub
Kissed and looking for more
That was two hours ago,
When you were still thinking of starting a band
When inspiration seemed imminent
When invitations were opening
And the news hadn’t really gotten around


Nothing but a phone call to make a connection
You’ve had plenty of experience and justifiable reason
You’re explanations for solitude during the celebration reasonable
And if they called you noble
Would you grin and bear it?
Would you contemplate or laugh it off?
Would you choke or spit it back?
Let em know it’s the same fear that keeps you from reaching


Listening to the “Smallest Skyline”
TPC singing with more meaning than the lyrics proclaim
And I’m ashamed, not knowing if its Jeff or Aaron
Telling me I better start pretty soon
If I ever want to change things.

Things written in my notebook (dec 31 2009)

Is that your Love?

You cant stop moving,
some would say your nervousness
has overcome you,
but I think its your
Excitement.
Some part of you
tries to defeat it,
but you can't keep from
Dancing.
-Smiles and head bobs
-beaming all blissful
winning his smile-dimples-cheeks rosed
with every,
single,
movement.


There is a thin line between
seeing and living
so thin that the former is often
mistaken for the latter,
especially in those with
a degree of imagination and -
large egos (the "empathetic").
But seeing is not living,
seeing can cause one
to change course.
But living
always leads to the
same end.

A Taxpayer's dilemma

Our eyes never meet in this
season of this climate.
Not for sake of politeness
but for sake of danger,
like Londoners avoiding dogshit
Junior High students' their shame
or Venetians a wet shoe
we tread this sidewalk in peril.
-A shuffle to keep
from broken hipped hobbles
-A nervous half step
to keep from plummeting
Its not for lack of tenderness
we miss greetings,
but a cities' lack of sand.

(possibly unfinished)

I spent the day
in and out of small shops
in the old quarter.
-dry concrete darkened by
time and car exhaust
framing each door way.

Doors always open,
always dark within-
for the odd lighting
of many lightbulbs
with low powered wattage
-cant compare with the sun.

But inside
a marvel of color
a mountain of trinkets
and that pashmina
intricately patterned, soft
and elegant.

But each a different quality, that only the touch
of fingers on fabric
can judge.

When we came to the shop with the softest
most beautiful
we haggled and pretended to refuse,
but really our ruse and his
were played for the part,
for pretending you're not interested
is more than half the art.

Now I see my print and color
wrapping the racks at Target,
but compare your cheap and easy
to my epic prize won adventuring
through silk road markets,
and you will find yourself wanting.