Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
for me, seeing david live in 1983 in Paris, the opening night of the let's dance tour, was just that. My guitar teacher had turned me on the ultimate Bowie starter, ChangesOne. and like many, my first response was to RebelRebel. Fuck Bob Dylan, The Monkees and Aerosmith. He twisted every convention I knew and with it began my own hero worship, my own myth, the Zeus of my twenty first century.
innocently i asked John, my teacher, "hey at the end there, what is a "fuel line and a handful of loose"??
he said "it's a few lines, and a handful of ludes."
i said, "and?'
and he said "oh, you will find out some day"
enjoy, i do every day.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tell me it is time
i am hot
for the final summer ride
mount our white steeds
illustrated with teenaged Heavy Metal
and ache our way
to the sweaty palm of the lower east side
and feel the walls shake of foot stomping house
to smell cocaine and swallow cool mimosa
one last hurrah
and then hang up our cups
and return to earth
opening a yellow cab door
spilling in and out all night like loose jelly bellies
laughing to the edge of every bar
colliding like lips to a glass
and then like a dawn that fits in your wallet
we will unfold across the eastern board
like sand falling from a shoe
and when dusk drops like a light curtain call on edges of miami
we will ride into town
there are few who can make this journey
we will break open the night with the fine edges of our wit and the keen control of our hearts
wouldn't you want to see how close we could get to the sunset and if we could sit at twilight's table
maybe drink from the night's cup as it overflows with the cool darkness that makes the heat of all of your monday stutter, trip and fall in the alleys of your pleasure
throw it around like pollacks paint, dousing anyone who dares stand near
darker still we swim at the fading edge of days last light
reaching at it with the pleasure and abandon of knowing it will never happen
bathing in the folly and futility of your own life as it passes with same speed as this paltry day
it counts as you count
breathes as you do
but when the day comes that worms eat out your eyes
it will laugh and turn its immortal attention to the next you
trying to dodge the last day