Life with Music

Around the World in Nice, France



Poetry, iss da knowetry, juss let it flowetry

River’s Dream

The Silver-tongue Ice Lout is a perserverant breed and the colder it gets the hotter it feels. The more distant the flame the faster he runs towards it, but never directly. He spirals into this infinite dance until the flames lick at his fur and bite his ears and he himself is so mad and hot and confused that he spirals back where he came from. Tongue unthawed, he licks his wounds and dances back around the fire. This ceremony is his favorite and most dreaded! He whips himself up like a king feast in oil and syrup and spins into the flame, catching the end of his tail ablaze. The silver tongued lout rumbles “Should I lop it off or merely douse it?!”. It creeps up his spine and begins to spread. In a panic the creature grabs its tail and devours it whole until all that’s left are a flame and a mouth eating each other.

River awoke with a lump in his pants.

“What a strange dream, huh Gigi?”

The bear’s pumice eyes stared back, confused and somewhat concerned.

“I think today I’ll be encountering… Monsters….”

River jumped off the bed and through his closet, landing in a jumble of clothes.  In this crawlspace there are two shoeboxes, a screwdriver, and a candle on a plate. Hunched over, he thrusts his index finger into his little pocket and grasps at a smooth surface.  After shifting to his bum and extending a leg he loosed the lump; an oblong orange stone. Turning it in his hands he noticed it looked a bit like candy corn, one of those with a broken tip, with a lighter ring around the base and a rusty sunset-colored crag in the top.

River pressed the stone between his hands and bowed his head. He sat like this for several minutes before opening his hands.  He studies the surface of the rock. “I see!”

In one smooth motion River drops the rock on the plate with a “clank,” removes a match from his left ear, and strikes it on the rock.


He triumphantly lights the candle and sets to work carving in the rock with the screwdriver.  “Won’t need this for monsters,” he giggles as he sets “LUST” in the box. “How about…”

He scans the rocks: BEAUTY, FUNNY, FEAR, LIES, BIG, SILENCE, are all near the surface. He grabs Funny and Fear, “Monsters need to laugh most of all! And… they…”

He looks at his clothes up and to the left while digging his fingers around the bottom of the box, searching for the right feel…

“they… need that too!” He closes his palm around the gem and breathes the world in a breath. He holds it, holds it,

Then lets go.

“Let’s go Gigi!”

He slips Vans over his bare feet, grabs the bear and slams the door behind him, followed by rocks clacking and a whistled tune glowing softer and softer.



He likes you
He listens to you
He loves you
He doesn’t believe in believing
He believes you
He wants you
You think about the same things
That he does

Head spinning tales
Well worded nets ensnare
The body, the planet, yet
Each day another revolution
Of symbols, of people
Running out of definitions

Who occupies your life
Who lives in your mind
That is what isn’t This is what is really
There is where you should be?
How I lost his last letter
Is how I came to be here
Being nothing
Is being

Water Ways

Scanning the seaside,
Duck butts turned up
Sunny eyes on moon-stalks, watching
Dusk from the tree tops. Outta class
And pot, singing glass
Thoughts, unraveling
The lost, descending stairs
To nowhere, tearing brick
From stone, sticks from
Bones; old ideas tossed to the dogs
Sketching dancers fetching spandex
Panthers, thick sinew
Soft antlers, butting heads
In feather beds, chasing laughs
In rickety rafts, reading charts and
Photographs, after beating hearts
and games of cards the dreamers
Rest their weary guard…

Followed stars to shores afar
Boarded dolphins, rail cars
Jumped ships and stole fat chances
Landed in jails, bars, fleeting trances
with maidens and sailors, often
Flirting with danger, retreating with caution
Bathed in delirious experiments
Exquisitely soaked in experience.
A timely exit, they took a bow
Yanked the helm and turned around.

Sounds of sea gulls, whale spouts
Of sighing winds in wispy bouts
Pushing, pulsing the ocean fleece
Rocks the boat alive, asleep
Humming, scooting nearer now
Singing clear sweet praise of how
Adventure fast became an art;
Common warmth for common hearts.
Lingering, a living gaze
Ripening, growing brave

When sudden vicious gnashing waves
Roused the vessel with a shout:
“You’re trapped in a storm
And you’ll never get out!”
Roared “Commodore Commotion,”
Great spirit of the ocean,
And the spirit raised yet greater waves
of unreasonable proportion
And they fell. Crashing
As they landed, fizzling
Into beasts splashing, shrinking
Spray drizzling, drops
Dissolving, chiseled
Into thin, glistening sand crystals…

Lifting his spine to the heavens
Shaking loose tired stars
That peppered their faces,
New from slumber. Hearing
Her name in the water
Sipping the sea.

How the Earth Birthed Desire

It sleeps in forests
Laced between roots reaching
The tree, and under it
nestled together
The branch, and the wind between
fond breeze caresses
The view, and the voyeur
unseen by each other
All at once
Reaching across, bridging dreams
between life forces
intimately bound together
Reaching inward, star-breath draws heavy
Red circle suns rise in blood
Eclipse moonglow cheeks
Reaching downward,
Fertile ground, fire sparks
Exciting matter, slowly
Prickling each root tip
  Glowing heat-form rising
   Within and without.
Reaching upward, a whisper
licking low branches
climbing sighs like thick smoke
Reaching outward, sprawling
out of control
lost in gasps amid quivers
Trees moaning, bark sheaths melt away.
Rapacious crusade reveals
the insides, free
to burst
blissfully awake

Highway Masters

tiny scorpion wings
airlift metal from the wound. Shards of
fragments, ideas that were.

How could you-
Fail to notice!
The. In_frantic
Sipping tea Skeleton roses
Dangling fireworks laughed Underneath
Fermenting liquid steel..

Is what could have been
As real as it was?
==>R’s spent by bastard
Fingers, dust from thin
Winetips crushing silk
Spinework into
A dress
Mother smothers

Nearby, convenients fasterbate longingly.
See those spindly bloodsuckers?
Fortified by miles and miles of spun web
Jealous spiders spun
While drunk fish chat fly fishing
Sick of it

stuck at home
in a rotting
left on all night
to buzz
for all the animals sleeping
tucked away in homespun blankets


Girl texting in the dark

waiting for a spark

nobody sits next to her,

adjacent seat’s for Teddy Bear

curled against the window

cursing her beauty.

What We Are

Lapping up the violent differences

between us, precious nectar,

we fight for every drop.

Pressed flesh simpers

Cells excited by new heat:

“What’s this? I thought we were the same”

but we aren’t, we are change, we are

the ecstasy of longing, the eternity of

desire dripping from soft thoughts

sewn to our lips.

What makes you tick?

The rhythm of nature. The unpredictable. Skinny dipping. Alternate dimensions from reeling head highs to so slow jazz solos, and back again. That new combination of ingredients that I never even thought of until Just Now. Realizing I was wrong, and becoming right (I hope it never ends). The moment when two hearts racing synch to the same pacing, warm life sensations, bodies tracing, minds erased. How the beat melts into the thick fabric of time-space.

we are earth angels

dirt ground floor feet rise through
bone muscle fat to shout
a whisper to
air mist waves look

up above, angels below
skyshroud clouds our gravity
drawn to Earth

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