outlaw blues

you can whip me but you can't make me like it
the cuts the scars the wounds my tattoos
a rage to live to love with a vengeance
the taste of blood under an outlaw moon
tell her i'll be crying in the alley
groaning a blues- she'll know
hear a blues pounding in her skull
come to me with a glance of quicksilver
unwinding the night dealing gundance
flame licking flame a mating of snakes
i walk on my knees she rides the darkness
her dark dancing is a lightning i float in
fire my eyes my fingers tongue the sky
her movements a riptide i answer with volcano
our waists twisting like tornadoes in slow motion
a dark wind coming down
i want to be smeared with her blood
wear it like a fine tattoo
be smeared with her wound
the night answers all train whistle moans
with fingers of flood
the pulsing shadows of demon moves
you'll look for me on dark backstreets
searching for a footprint in the muddy snow
listening for my song
of black roses on dirty backstreets
hear me crying in the night
a blues of blood and fire
i want to be alive with the night
alive with the dance alive with the fire
i want to meet you on the edges
burn down what is left of the darkness
with my singing blood drink the sky the stars




desperado

snakes and blades
and bullet eyes
cards and dice
and cantina tequila
for mexican death
an ace in the
hole for outlaw
times for the
long long midnight
nothing left but
the breath and
your hunger
you are there
and yet not there
wind and dust
burning in your
laughter




cowboy hat on a nail on the wall

yeah, kell, it's something, to hear
you sing those old hank williams
songs those early hank songs that
no one knows you went to see
him when you were a kid and he
knocked over the microphone then
got up and broke people's hearts
with his words and his voice and
his music and tonight you sing
those old songs those songs that
nobody knows while the crowd
roars in silva's saloon, sing the
old songs even the last one, cold
cold heart, not so different from
those early songs, one about being
alone like a piece of driftwood
on the sea, wailing under the hat on
the wall, the hat of your close
friend who died, hanging on a nail
on the wall of silva's saloon, and
you sing on and on, those early
obscure hank songs, faded love and
winter roses, sing like a wounded
coyote in a saloon in bernalillo,
under the hat of your dead friend



midnight and backstreets

raindance and aces and
eights deuces are wild
in this game we play
your eyes define time
and space we dance in
the dark we spin in the
shadows till we reach
what we need we slide
through the layers the
waves of the dream
to the fire underneath
howl wolf down by the
tracks only midnight
holds the answers
midnight and backstreets
and no name hotels
where we bleed where
the walls leak our
words our silences
and the mirrors
swallow our movements
and just outside the
window the neon winks
for gamblers in smoky
rooms and winos in
boogie alley looking
for their next bottle
of thunderbird as
we burn all night
to prove we're alive



robert johnson

soil sifting
through lean
fingers that
pluck those
steel strings
tightened by
bottleneck to
give a sensual
groan that
unchains his
throat cuts
loose his
blues it's
what makes
mud sanctify
blood anoint
watch his
hands his
fingers the
way they
gesture with
the glint of
his eyes call
the skies to
rip loose
the lightning
night for the
devil calling
in his dues