The Watcher


I want to see everything
crawl under the doors
through the windows
to watch you
watch them
I want to drill holes in the wall
put a stethoscope 
to it listening
imagining what it looks like
I want to sneak in 
see you thinking
watch you watching tv
talking on the phone
taking a shower
or a shit
picking out your clothes
folding your socks
sleeping
I want to see you







On a Deserted Island With Her
(Not if you were the last...)


Or so the nightmare goes

I, shuffling along the shore
Picking up stones and shells
Stopping to watch birds
Maybe lay down and feel the
Soft breeze caressing skin

Swimming in the blue
Drinking coconut manna
Hula in the waves for 
My own enjoyment
Writing long poems in the sand

She, tapping her foot in the sand
Passing judgment after judgment
After judgment
She’ll call me names
Questioning my existence

At night I will dream
In starry skies
Thinking of the other side of
This island and that perfect
Spot for a hut of my own

In the morning, I’ll gather lumber








Waiting

I have no poetry for you
no words to soothe the
ache of midnight
alone
in the dark stillness of your
living room    Dusty corners
bleed their edges
obscuring to shadow only shadow
More a room of waiting
than living
carpet muffled creaking floor boards
under heavy  loose socked feet
as you pad to your kitchen
crack the light of the ‘frige
for canned beer
light a cigarette from the stove top burner
and drag it all back into that room
that waiting room
cigarette dangling from mouth
Death drifts past your door
down the street to the old woman
with cats
Her turn tonight

That’s okay
you can wait






War of Words


with armor so perfect
we are impervious
to each other’s attacks

only this ground suffers







Tabloid Photographs


We like to look at pictures
Dipped in blood
-- Someone else’s
There are no writers
On the scene
That’s made up later
In a room full of writers
Looking at photographs
Did JohnJohn really 
Hit her?  Jacko really leave
Her?  Did Charlie really
Love her?
The photo says nothing
We buy the photos in this
"Image is Everything" world
Unaware of the larger world 
Just outside the edges 
Of a photograph
In that world
The subject is 
Rarely focused on