stories in return

people are okay
give them just enough rope
-- they'll crochet!
will weave stories
from stories in return

that is why I am settled here
in love and lies; I will not go
until the pull of weariness
draws me earthward

if I crash, pick up a bone shard
to wear aorund your pale neck

if I burn up in the atmosphere
let the light illumine
a moment of pity and awe

remember me
every time you hear a fool ramble
or a stubborn door hiss open

Charlie Haden (w/ references to a documentary about his life)

Charlie Haden spoke to me
with his boom bomb boom
with his monstrous discipline
with his hands tenderly applying
a 100-year-old veneer polish
to his favorite acoustic bass

his daughters, triplets
singing sweetly, bow their heads
at the folk festival where their father barks
"This! This!", beating out the rhythm
on his music stand with a baton

his wit and warmth, wonder and intimacy
chatting, joking, jamming with fellow Missourian Pat Metheny,
with jazz wildmen Keith Jarrett and Paul Motian

he spoke to me
on stage at a jazz festival in Central America
dedicating his final song to the working, fighting
people, battling the dictator of their homeland
Miles Davis telling him he was one crazy MF'er
as he climbed, tall shoulders hunched
from the stage, into the waiting arms
of the military police

companion peace

wow and yes
are two creatures cuddling
perfect storm brewing overhead
under a shade of branches
lightning illumines
intent gazes fixed on one another
palace of gold diamond jade
warmth and wealth
another order of brilliance
nevertheless, pales next to the darkness
that surrounds them
lashes of rain
and wet through to the soul
forever drowning
forever dreaming
in the most honorable fur
of each others' company

catch your fall

practice please
and I forgive you
whittle out time
from your day,
filled with fullness
say yes to you
and, crying for good reason
your heart concerns us
(not just the ones who know you)
we weave our hands together
a knitted blanket
of fingers
catch your fall
and loosen your grin,
stuck somewhere between
"I don't feel comfortable"
and "make me invisible"

but history is history

But history is history
A life is time spent
Mistaking who you are
And a life is history
Within history

Time and telltale signs
Sifting through ruins
And through runes

And only you determine
That your history
has not been spying
On your destiny