1000 Days

~1000 Days~

~Day 1000~
~Drawn Deep/Half Asleep~

~tryin’ to think of something to say~these worms in my brain~demand to be set in order~rank & file~
~they crawl by~I need drugs~kisses & hugs~someone killed the sand man~buried him in my eyes~

~I name this the thousandth day~
~fifty-four days since I left you~
~it is good for me to count~
~backward to move forward~
~nine-hundred-ninety-nine to go~
~only a man truly loved & valued~
~could breathe in~
~melancholy smile~
~breathe out~
~tiny steps~
~baby steps~
~monster steps~
~yawn~
~didn’t see this comin’ on~

~Day 999~
~First Day of Intent~

~I don’t fly~lived my life in Colorado~met a great woman in California~married her~mind is blank~
~3 years away from my kids~1300 miles~ah damn~I don’t fly~

~my affairs are in disorder~
~here is the plan~
~what I intend to do children~
~each one of these thousand days~
~is attend to a discipline~
~most recently developed~
~these past few weeks~
~a mile a day~
~I think~
~I can~
~muddle through 1440 minutes~
~5280 feet eastern bound west~
~one of them behind me~
~999 remain~
~until I return to your arms~

~Day 998~
~Down Time~

~that’s what my brother named years spent in prison~I’ve been tossed in jail a few times in my life~
~no down time like him~twenty-eight years~God damn~

~a person learns it is wise~
~to take life in small steps~
~my family has stood witness~
~to instances of stumbling~
~running downhill on my part~
~embarrassed perhaps~
~they love me still~
~and I~
~for my part~
~each & every one of them~
~it is as if failure confirms us~
~defines the difference~
~as we look into their eyes~
~friends & family~
~whose spirit eyes reach~
~& whose look away~

~Day 997~
~Feeding the Kitty~

~there is no way out~when a man lays his hand on your woman~mother~sister~daughter~wife~
~she cries out to you~don’t hurt him~ah hell~just go away~

~when I was fifteen years old~
~I left home & got a kitten~
~couldn’t afford to feed it~
~stole milk from porch boxes~
~that’s how I ended up in jail~
~the first time & bailed out~
~to the prison~
~of my mother’s monster~
~stepfather~
~he said he knew how to hurt me~
~whipped my two younger brothers~
~for conspiring with me to run away~
~forced me to stand witness as punishment~
~their eyes when the belt whacked~
~the bare bloody flesh of their asses~
~I’m no snitch but a coward to watch~
~faith & love destroyed~
~rivulets of blood running down their legs~
~the man understood the psychology of violence~
~murder in my heart~
~a bullet with his name~

~Day 996~
~MIA~

~5 men raped a woman in a laundromat~her husband was a friend of mine~we went out lookin’~
~brought back 10 trophies to add to his collection~gotta watch who you fuck with~or the game owns you~
~having spent some time with them~

~I am acutely aware that real time~
~doesn’t exist for madmen~
~having been very damned close~
~to becoming one myself~
~I wonder~
~if death won’t own them~
~where the hell did they go~
~a friend of mine had an interesting collection~
~a pickle jar with 31 ears from Viet Nam~
~he was the unit’s final interrogator~
~the ears were proof to the leaders~
~he had been thorough in his interrogation~
~they let him keep them~
~he only got credit for 15 kills~

~Day 995~
~Gauntlet~

~Friday nights when we got off work~we’d load kids & inner tubes in our Jeeps~my brothers & I~
~four wheel into those rocky mountains~have someone drop us off 25 miles or so above camp~
~experience a certain deliverance~ridin’ the river~peeing our pants~

~it is now Sunday, the nine-hundred-ninety-fifth day~
~a hummingbird wind chime tinkle weeps~
~sings its songs to me~
~reminds me of camping weekends~
~my daughters & backgammon~
~climbing on cliffs with my boyz~
~inner tubing down that lazy ol’ Platte river~
~25 miles~
~cuttin’ barbwire fences with bolt cutters~
~floating through the badlands~
~poor boyz trippin’ the “no trespassing” signs~
~boone’s farm grape wine & Budweiser beer~
~scarin’ hell out of fishermen~
~come tubin’ up behind ‘em~
~out there in the wonderful lonely~
~Rocky Mountain dawns & sunsets~
~number 1 camp-cook me~
~fried potatoes and green peppers~
~cooked with eggs over an open fire~
~nothin’ like it~
~tiny crisp pancakes~
~Mickey Mouse shapes for the little ones~
~fresh trout baked in tinfoil~
~butter & salt~
~if our fishermen were along~

~Day 994~
~Gauntlet~

~I wanna spend the night in that dark house~I saw it flyin’ down Interstate 80~Nevada~maybe Utah~
~90 miles an hour~8 hours driving in~it’s hard to tell~can’t turn around~never could~
~revisiting nightmares~monster eyes~

~this woman amuses me~
~with her little girl excitement~
~attention to detail~
~as she plans the event~
~our wedding~
~I haven’t been loved this way~
~feel gifted to have come to this~
~exquisite time of life~
~we’ll drive from California~
~all the way to Colorado~
~I know what that means now~
~mile markers~
~Nevada~
~Utah~
~Wyoming~
~there’s a man who built a house o’ bones~
~I saw it through the windshield of my Ford~
~wonder if he intended to finish it~
~or attend its dark shadows~
~its forever undone~
~I suppose that’s what a life lived well is~
~a house unfinished~
~forever undone~

~Day 993~
~Signs o’ Peace~

~shortly after my father died~I attempted astral projection~wasn’t very good at~
~ended up in a vast lonely of trees~quiet there except~
~needles & leaves~chanting messages~penetrating the awful darkness of my grief~I didn’t want to return~
~to the fierce reality of life~

~there are signs always~
~dates & chance meetings~
~would be I could come to know them~
~impart their instances~
~of minute wisdom and joy~
~convey them some way~
~in waves to my children~
~them to their children~
~in waves of goodness~
~wondrous & infectious~
~create a pandemic condition~
~a plague of love through the universe~
~a fresh wisdom~
~based on a willingness~
~a bent toward the reality of peace~
~quiet time accepted~
~sought even~
~in a necessarily noisy world~
~the music of laughter~
~whisper of sighs~

~Day 992~
~Chords Drawn~

~a guy came into the bar one night~attempted to levitate me~I snagged his martini glass and ate it~
~blood dripping lip~he laughed~we smoked tar opium after the gig~
~played poker all night in the harems of our dreams~very high~I was not levitated~

~I caught myself singing~
~a praying mantis listening
~thankful that gods~
~have a sense of humor~
~& insects no predisposition~
~to what is cool~
~there is death in the music of the fool~
~I drank deep of it~
~in the whiskey rooms of my youth~
~hung my hopes upon~
~it didn’t wear them well~
~an idiot dreamer~
~midnight schemer~
~I howled myself hoarse~
~Satisfaction~
~Wild Thing~
~Oh Suzy-Q~
~life is a lullaby~
~a blending of voices & spirits~
~ghost thing come visit a man~
~glad & not too late~

~Day 991~
~Black Bible~

~motel neon lights~vacancy~Gideon~she laughs~takes a long draw on her man’s brownbag wine~
~that guy in the liquor store~he didn’t die so good~the memory turns her on~make love to me~
~on this pile of one dollar bills~this little light o’ mine~

~fourteen degrees left of right~
~when the moon howls his name~
~caught in horizontal union~
~with creatures better than himself~
~he laughs himself to sleep~
~wakes up in a fit of tears~
~damns the night to find him~
~sits up & lights a cigarette~
~is shocked when the zippo glare~
~reveals a creature lying on the bed~
~he draws deeply on the smoke~
~confirms her presence in its cherry light~
~the preacher woman, real~
~ah damn, he presses the lighted cigarette~
~into the flesh of his forehead~
~searing pain registers & he knows~
~it’s real as luck would have it~
~no escape through the death dream~

~Day 990~
~Tits Up~

~I won two hamsters in a pool game in a bar~took them home to my 5 year old son~
~told him keep these guys in food & water~if you don’t they’ll die~
~he took them in their shoe-box house into his room~a couple of weeks later I looked in~they were tits up~
~called out to him~lecture time~whoa dad! you were right~

~dogs scratching on the window~
~cats kneading more than they give~
~goldfish floating gasp of bowl~
~ferrets and hamsters desperate~
~to escape or simply die~
~of their own captured condition~
~humans kept as pets empirical~
~decisions made which one~
~to keep which to throw away~
~I’ve seen folks do that with their children~
~intervened a few times~
~ended up with my ass in a sling~
~I can’t ignore such things though~
~dotting the eye of a predator~
~is very nearly as satisfying~
~as putting the damned thing in the ground~

~Day 989~
~Rainbows Forgotten~

~35 years ago I stayed up all night~so I could experience dawn in the mountains~I sat on a large stone~
~inhaled a snoot full of mescaline~deep breath~inhaled the sky~colorado kool-aid~harley oil & gasoline~
~a rider from the camp came to take a leak~asked me what I was doing~he was big & hairy~
~writing poetry I said~he guffawed & I stood up on the rock~so I could look him in the eye~
~I started writing this poem with ink~put your dick away & go back to the camp~
~I might just poke this pen in your eye~finish my piece with your blood~I’m a full service poet~
~later that night he & his friends~a group known as the ghouls~
~took a girl who had driven my sweeper truck on the run~she should have known better~
~I warned her but they were lined up for the train~she was wailing louder than a whistle~
~I took a five gallon can of gas~filled my mouth with it~set the nozzle on fire & lit a cigar~
~tossed some flames in the general direction of the line~
~marched forward & spit across the fire of my smoke~quoting a song liked in those days I said~
~I am the god of hell-fire~I took that girl back & made her sleep in the truck by herself~
~a club sanctioned ride to some lake in nebraska~can’t remember the name~don’t matter~
~my younger brother drowned there~but that’s another story~

~I believe in Sunday afternoon~
~its languorous wealth of idle time~
~& guarantee of death~
~of light, of savior, of~
~the sun never going down~
~the moon never rising~
~we are fools, sycophants~
~of preconceived conditions~
~having witnessed thousands of each~
~dawns & dusks~
~not a single one is the same~
~their differences a matter of interpretation~
~undeniable in the sameness they share~
~what mirrors of heaven~
~celestial kaleidoscopes~
~did I say we tend to be fools & sycophants~
~regarding such slated events~
~I’ll cop to that regarding myself~
~the very light of dawn & dusk~
~suggests an aura of gods
~& who needs them when you have that~

~Day 988~
~Lunches & Other Shit~

“I ain’t never comin’ out from behind this ol’ couch. I messed myself again and I’m gonna get it really bad if they find me but they won’t ‘cause I’m gonna stay back here ‘til I’m dead.”

Six-year-old Jackie crossed his skinny arms and shivered. He thought about his older brother and four younger siblings, muttered to himself, “Momma and Daddy hate me. We ain’t even got a Christmas tree like everybody else.” He closed his eyes tight and bit down on his tongue until it bled when he heard his mother’s voice.

“Jackie, where are you? What is that smell? You kids help me find your brother.”

Jackie scrunched down behind the couch that made into a bed, the place where he and his siblings all slept together, except for the baby who slept in a dresser drawer in Momma and Daddy’s bedroom. Frail and thin, he tried to make himself even smaller so as not to be found. Warm blood on his lips from his cut tongue, he maintained a fetal curl as a hand groped blindly behind the couch. It brushed the skin of his back.

It was Momma's hand. Eyes closed tight, he knew it was Momma's hand. “There you are, you little bastard! You shit yourself then hid behind the couch.”

Daddy's boots. Jackie smelled Daddy and heard his boots. “I told you what was gonna happen the next time,” Daddy warned, his fingers unbuckling the belt around his waist.

“I wu-wu-wunning away,” Jackie cried.

“You wunning away,” Daddy mimicked in a whining voice. “I’m sick of you and your baby talk and your filth. Your little sisters talk better than you do. They know the difference between w’s and r’s.”

He smacked Jackie on the top of the head with the palm of his hand. “Take ‘im in the bathroom and clean ‘im up,” Daddy ordered Momma. “I don’t wanna get shit on my belt.”

Momma grabbed Jackie by an arm and dragged him to the bathroom. “You’re always causing trouble,” she accused. “There’s no peace in the house for anyone because of you.”

She lifted the toilet seat, tore off his ragged trousers and underwear, then plunked his bottom into the cold water, lifted him clear, then down again several times, rinsing him off and wringing him out like a dirty rag. “Oh, oh, oh,” Jackie cried when the cold water splashed his skin. “Momma, no, no, Daddy, no.”

She slapped Jackie’s face. “You stop your whining! You’ve got this coming to you. You know better than to shit yourself!” Then she said the magic words, the words Jackie longed to hear. “If you don’t straighten up, we’ll send you away to live with your uncle. What that man sees in you I don’t know, but I’ve about had it with you.” She picked a dirty towel up from the floor and pushed it into his hands. “Get your ass out of the toilet and dry yourself off.”

Daddy smelled like the stuff in the bottle he was always drinking out of, only like sick or something. “Grab your ankles, boy. I’ll stop at ten if you don’t fall down or cry like a little girl.”

Jackie stood his ground, wobbled a bit at first and stumble-stepped under the tenth lash but did not fall down. His bloody tongue helped him to remember to keep his mouth shut. He was denied his government commodities dinner of hard biscuits and watered down spam gravy and spent the night with his face wedged tightly into a corner of the room to atone for his sins. His bare, belt-striped butt was cold and he was afraid to shiver, wished he could will himself to stop breathing.

The next morning he and his older brother dressed in their ragged clothes and left for school. “Don’t get into trouble,” their mother warned. “We don’t need another night like last night in this house. None of us like it, Jackie.”

Jackie snickered to himself as his brother picked through the trash. They never talked about it but Jackie knew what he was doing. His brother would retrieve a paper bag and some crinkly plastic so he could make noise in the lunchroom and pretend he had a lunch to eat like all the other kids.

Jackie knew a better way. He would sneak back into the building during recess or pretend he had to use the bathroom. Then he’d go to where the lunches were kept and tear the bags to pieces. He’d gobble down what he could of the things he liked and fill his pockets for later. The rest he would smear on the wall and into the seats of the spoiled brats who had lunches and Christmas trees.

Maybe someday he’d get caught and thrown in jail or Daddy would finally kill him or send him away to his beloved uncle. He was finding out it was all out there. The keepers had it. All he had to do was take it.

~the child who goes to bed hungry~
~knows what to expect of morning~
~that the pain is deeper~
~yet easier to abide~
~learns a sense of owning~
~having starved in the prayer~
~desert of hope~
~given up on the god of blame~
~add a beating or two~
~he learns to hold his water~
~including & especially tears~
~that fresh blush on his face~
~fierce brand of authority~
~stand the wall~
~take your punishment~
~someday ain’t no room to hold you~
~hell, hunger is the easy part~

~Brothers~

~Day 987~
~Too Many Bennies~

~Benny followed me from bar to bar~dumb ass kid thought I was cool~riding my ol’ ’71 shovel-head~
~he rode a Harley Sportster~a mini-bike~
~I left him in a bar one night arguing football with some obnoxious idiot~he refused to leave~young pup~
~after I left he asked the man outside~who blew his brains out against the glass of the entryway~

~they came after me then~
~the older brothers~
~of the young man~
~wanted to know~
~why & how~
~I could let that young man die~
~ah, god, I could not~
~I wish I knew~
~a bit of what I thought I knew~
~when I was young like him~
~I told them~
~those strong weeping men~
~after the funeral~
~before your true vengeance~
~is wreaked upon his murderer~
~take me to the pasture~
~lowing~
~of baser animals~
~moo~
~with a beer in my belly~
~a television in my face~
~professional sports~
~statistics~
~false idols & jock straps~
~teach me to close my eyes~
~what I could not teach Benny~
~& the boy has died~

~Day 986~
~The Thirteenth Step~

~Freddy was a good girl~always brought the money home to her old man~she had a glass eye~
~lips tattooed around her belly button~great stomach muscles~sip a bottle of beer~spit it in their faces~
~while they wiped it off~before they recovered~she’d pop her eye out~insert it between her lips~
~give ‘em a wink & dance away~

~there is always a new music~
~sexuality~
~duality~
~a reason to abandon~
~the hearts of our homes~
~a sense of giving over~
~certain death to old singers~
~in the breath of new cock~
~she did a one step back two~
~seven in a row~
~so the thirteenth step~
~placed her stage front~
~confused~
~she turned her back~
~the audience went wild~
~mad for her wiggly butt~
~she began to sing~
~they liked that too~
~her pirhouette~
~divine silhouette~
~spotlight on her delicious~
~breasts~
~topless bar~
~ones stuffed in her garter~
~she closed her eyes~
~pretended she was a rock star~

~Day 985~
~Schism~

~Mary liked to snort amyl nitrate~smoke a little hash~she favored a bloody drink~her namesake~
~about halfway trashed~she’d start talkin’ suicide~I put a pillow in the toilet~handed her my cocked my .357~
~lay your head down baby~go to sleep~closed the door & went to have a drink with her ol’ man~
~they didn’t talk to me after that~

~a man might identify~
~himself in the mirror~
~& ignore the necessity~
~of the bullet in his brain~
~marked in the cylinder of his gun~
~with the initials of his name~
~in the holster~
~in the schism of life~
~that singular piece of each creature~
~faced with the ultimatum~
~accept the status quo~
~or take the next step~
~believe in the power of self~
~pull the trigger~
~take that jump into the beyond~
~beyond what~
~backed into a corner~
~cowards learn a fresh reality~
~that preservation of self~
~is not the end & all~
~courage is a shade of giving up~
~no body no space to claim~
~a willingness to sacrifice~
~to be or not to be is not a question~
~it is a declaration~
~we may blow through & vanquish~
~formidable enemies~
~through the realization~
~the absolute certainty~
~that no one knows for sure~
~flesh is a poor proving ground~
~the nether a noble reward~

~Day 984~
~Canine Chuckles~

~four months after I moved to California~Kathy decided I needed something to keep me busy~to take my mind off ~the 1300 miles between my kids & me~she gifted me Cinder~a five month old German Shepherd~
~I’ve learned a lot from that dog in 22 months~
~Momma said she’d come back as a dog to make sure I behaved myself~I wonder about that~

~you see, the dog wants in~
~she’s scratching at the door~
~you see, the dog wants out~
~she’s scratching at the door~
~it’s the ooze, the spilled pasta~
~who’s the boss here I~
~clean her doo-doo from the floor~
~a dog whisperer told me~
~dogs can understand 97 commands~
~each one accentuated~
~by a body signature~
~can’t say the same for myself~
~I’ll probably gesture “come”~
~when I mean for her to “go”~
~neither of us will know~
~whether she’s comin’ or goin’~
~at least at that point~
~the dog & I are on equal footing~
~have ya ever seen a dog laugh~

~Day 983~
~Infernal Chaos~

~the long-haired prisoner~shaved off all his body hair~explained to me on my first & last visit~
~there’s a war inside~a man can’t have nothin’ anybody can get hold of~8 & ½ years in the hole~incorrigible~
~he cut off more than his hair~

~there is no cynicism~
~starker than reality~
~and no realism~
~comparable to visions~
~of the cynic engaged~
~in a life of chaos aware~
~that we all fall down~
~such knowing earned~
~a startling view confirmed~
~from the bottom of the heap~
~footprints & claw-marks of life~
~worn as reluctant tattoos~
~scars, remnants of blood-ink~
~map images the legend~
~boundary warnings~
~you’ve gone too far~
~lips of mother & the guards~
~locked in grim confusion~
~a handful of keys~
~& the gates are on fire~
~dead-end alley~
~no way out~
~that part of us cowards~
~peeking between our legs~
~last to burn~
~first to die~

~Day 982~
~Departure~

~standing on the cliffs’ edge~violent waves crashing beneath her~a sea lion dashed against ragged stones~
~eyes damp~hair blown wind~mourning the creature its death~a bit of something in herself~
~maudlin she thought~raised her arms~howled~a wounded thing she was~

~the sun goes falling summer~
~half-light on the wooden gate~
~we are divided by structures~
~abstract deviations~
~naked initiations dissolve~
~reappear and present themselves~
~as masquerades of autumn~
~the woman mirroring seasons~
~her representation of portals~
~entryways, doors~
~warp slices~
~invitations~
~moons of blood~
~her existence requires~
~exquisite events of tide~
~liquid aberration~
~magnetic trysts~
~mysterious assignations~
~the random illicit~
~predatory rendezvous~
~sexual appropriation~
~the winter moon kisses~
~plants hoarfrost on the gate~
~slivers of silver appear~
~her eyes in the amber glass~
~coffee cup reflection~
~application of henna~
~the sun goes falling winter~
~through an auburn masque~
~autumn may yet garner~
~a thin slice~
~a day~
~spring is for good~
~& forever~
~out of her reach~
~she yields to the glass thimble~
~slams shut the gate~
~shatters & seizes~
~the sun gone falling summer~

~Day 322~
~Chiminea~

~California to Colorado~spending time with my kids~Zedidiah & I began to fire-talk~
~seeking a song in night fires~indirect messages of generation~pickin’ & singin’~father & son~

~last night was the fire-night ~
~chiminea~

~the young man~
~my son~
~playing guitar~
~the old man me~
~writing & singing~

~we began to read scribbles~
~drawn by the chimney flue~
~upon the night~

~there are secrets in the flames~
~dead languages~
~startling moments of discovery~