Poems from the Mud Room: Collected Works 1976 - 2012

By Howard Camner

“Tantalizingly irreverent; Camner’s work smacks of the deliciously absurd with a point. He is a brilliantly bizarre poet and master of the surreal.”
- Lenny DellaRocca
The Poetry Museum

“Camner defies the traditional aesthetic concepts of poetry. He targets a world of ideas in a rather active way as opposed to the more passive, meditative aspects found in most poetry. There is a linguistic simplicity to his poems, an almost transparent quality, over a rather complex web of experience and thought. His poetry is life… ‘All you have to do is look’ – The obvious and not so obvious.”

- Marta Braunstein, editor
Cambio Literary Journal


“Camner writes in terse, stark, real verse that would make Hemingway
raise his scotch glass in honor.”

- New Times Newspaper


“Camner’s poetic style is reminiscent of Raymond Chandler’s detective writing; descriptive and terse with interesting plot lines. His characters are certainly the product of a vivid imagination.”

- The Comstock Review

“Camner’s ‘humour noir’ is apparent in his poetics, his spirited voice and unabashed freedom – so alive, even in his earliest poems.”

- Peter Hargitai

“A literary detour, and well worth the trip.”

- Village Voice

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483629889

Howard Camner

Howard Camner has taken many paths to become who he is. From narrow escapes to stage bows, the acclaimed poet has lived a life just a little off-kilter. Camner lives and writes in Miami, Florida, with his wife Sue and his two children, Judi Rose and Elijah Kidd.

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Copyright © 2013 by Howard Camner.

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Rev. date: 11/05/2021

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Contents

Scattered Crib Note Rhapsody

Ambulance Chaser

Embracing the Gargoyle

Tough Guy

Waiting for Sister to Come Home

The Greatest Love Poem Ever Written

Meltdown on Main Street

American Trilogy

Tying Up Saint Dimas

Metaphor

Washed Ashore in Three Pieces

Nietzsche’s Daughter from Behind

Later Eminence

Quasimodo’s Lament

As Vespucci Spins

Staring at the Clock with Both Eyes Shut

Odd Man Out

Banned in Babylon

The Small Time Slow Blues Shuffle

Fixing Wagons

Anguilla Sunrise

Granddaddy’s Farm (The Short True Tale of Pig-Boy)

Pumpkin Eater

Lianna with No Excuse

Pantomime

Mrs. Grundy

Anita in 3-D

Neti Neti

Mr. Tulip’s Garden Show

A Choice of Evils

Avoiding Hell

Kissing Maggie Off

Catastrophic Waltz

Self-Portrait in Dust

Downwind of Donatello’s Debutante

Grizelda The Witch of 1³th Terrace

Reprise

Streetwise

The Backward Traveler

Sophia (in theory)

Grandpa’s Friend the Giant

Ralph’s American Café

Perestroika

Backhoe

Emily

Attack of the No-See-Ums

The Amazing Shemgard’s Traveling Flea Circus (circa 1962)

I Sleep in a Tuxedo

Sidestepping the Issue

Webster’s Daughter

Tongues

Coach William Willie Wilson

Cracks

Airport Danish Blues

Mona Lisa’s Madness

Three Loaded Lords

Monaco

Jeremiah’s Junkyard

Pushkin to Shove

Aphrodite on Second Thought

So Long Sweetheart (don’t look now but your headache’s gone)

The Genealogical Expedition of Chester P. Hester

Maid in Heaven

The Resurrection

Lilith Illuminated

The Apology of Anonymous

Nightmare on Canvas

The Stranger

Admiral of the Red

Spending the Night with Patti

Waiting for Wanda

Archangel

Treason

Melpomene

Stray Dog Wail

Braco the Benevolent

Laying Odds

Someone to Sleep On

Broad on the Beach

The Painter and the Poet

Edwin the Last

From Twelve o’ Clock On

Speaking to Strangers

The Man with the Wings in His Hat

Persuasion

Stuck

BRAINSTORM (Wise Norlina on the Powhite Parkway)

Beth and Bruce (The Perfect Couple)

Memories of Margot

Waiting for Daylight

Oma

Big Easy Blues

Dizzard Got the Jimjams

Secondhand Psalm Revised

Uncle Henry’s Universe

The Bogan Jobsworth Poem

Benny’s Bitchin’ Bowling Belt

Darwin’s Dream

Shades of Seclusion

Jim Crow

The Give

Shaving

With the Exiled Princess on Lovers’ Lane

Baked Alaska

Taking a Bite Out of Your New Lover

What the Left Hand Doesn’t Know

Doing the Nasty

Revenge

Batter Up

Vincent

Notes from a Holding Cell

Joe Angel

Bonehead

View from the Tower

Delilah Deflated

The Wife of the Sword Swallower

Flash in the Pan

Final Thoughts on a Rainy Sunday

Beware the Frid

The Rumor

The Backward Church of the Impoverished Gimp

A Certain Madness

Katie on the Other Hand

The Railroad Tramp

A Little Background on P.S. Pinsky

Instructions for Entering Dark Castles

Counterclockwise

That Fat Cat on the Stoop of Saint Vincent’s Orphanage

Box of Broken Clowns

The Bitter End

Cruel Love

Confessions on Avenue B

Urbino Garbonzo: Traveling Junk Dealer

City Poem

Sitting Shiva

Vamp

Cheating the Sphinx

Classical Chrome

Catharsis Burlesque at the Edge of Town

The Risen

Camilla through the Peephole

The Disgruntled Diva

Day for Night

Betty (Holy Priestess of the Quail Roost Trailer Park)

Leon in Captivity

Running Numbers

Dialogue with the Deuce

Little Jack Horner’s Blues

Dirge

Cool Boy

Doing Interstate 27

Resisting Arrest

Dirty Sanchez

Guinevere

Maybe Marie

Miserable Murray

Devil’s Due

Tilt

Don’t Let Go (it’s only me)

Detour to Dicetown

Eve in the Underworld

Sammy Stoner

Mr. Vidalia

Pigeye Smith

Dirty Wash

Drifter’s Dream

Greasy Diner Observations

Dating Donna and Her Best Friend Nini Simultaneously

Femme Fatale

44 Minutes

The Tough Kid from Philly

The Damage Done

The Posthumous Success of J.C. Patterson

Roses in the Rain

Kill the Messenger

The Timely Demise of Vito Bad Banano

Judi & Me

The Doldrums

Look Out Your Window Sister

Bad Night, Last Night

What Happened to Lyle?

The Old Grey House in the Grove

Unwrapping the Mummy

The Wild Woman of Shorthand

Dirty Work

The Baroness and Gregor

Music Box

The Day I Met Rosie

The Wrecker

Ice Blue

Scamp

Eating Toad on Old Clyde Road

Eden

Love Poem

Epitaph in a Convex Mirror

Everything Changed Under Cromwell

The Fall

Cricket on the Heat Pipe

Bathtub Gin

Faith at the Bottom

Generations

Tramp on Gallery Row

Funeral for an Elf

Granny and the Wolf

Scrutiny

Going Down on Miss X

Crime Scene

The Gravedigger

Roadside Rembrandt

The Hideous Existence of Barnaby Drudge

221-B Baker Street

Misguided Projectiles

In Pursuit of Mr. Monet’s Muse

Gridlock

The Missionary

Kismet

Hollow Trees

Mr. Periwinkle’s Predicament

If I Had My Druthers

The Poet at 5:00 A.M.

Unglued Gertrude

Kalamazoo Undraped

Lily’s Eggs Over Easy

Geezer

Seven

Nutcase

The Long Drive Home from There

Hollywood

Mr. Question Man

Pulling Strings

The Moon Obscured

Madman in the Alley

The Solution Hole

Sisters

Personal Rain

In the Key of G Flat

Mad Mildred (a liberated woman)

Making Monsters

For Art’s Sake (Botticelli’s Bitch)

The Man Who Went Straight at the Fork in the Road

The Cage

Moot

The Guardian

Blue Morning Confrontation

Nana

Mrs. Grundy’s Mud Show

Steam

My Mentor

Hitchhiker

The Boy Who Owned the Stars

Mr. Duncan’s Puppet Show

The Ragged Man

My Dinner with Your Brother the Weenie

The Madman of Mime

Outside the Box

When the Fat Lady Sings

Saint Lucy Who Couldn’t Care Less

Oz

Curtains for Romeo

Owed to Mother Earth

Talked-About Tower

rom This Angle

Offspring Rhapsody

Lycanthrope

One Last Kiss for Katie

The Oyster Bar at Low Tide

Brutal Delicacies

The Fabian Policy

Street Signs

Prankster (poem for a pigeon)

Otus Osio

Mr. Mudd’s Very Short One Night Stand

Vampire

Old Sitwell’s Ghost

Breaking the Spell

Interview by Moonlight

The Reminder

Owed to Seuss

Unfinished Business

Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow (The Great Chicago Fire)

Mr. Lucky on the Gallows

Boom Town

The Prisoner

Backstage at Armageddon

The Fisherman

Trapped

Paper Doll

The Widow Squashbottom’s Lab Experiment

The Great Auk (Pinguinis impennis)

The Apple Tree Man

Crazy Sidney in the Parking Lot

For Tomm, by the Back Fence

Alligator

Nothing Serious

Genesis Straight

Black Jack’s Blues

Portals

Periwinkle’s Way

Decadence for Dessert

Pierrot

When Mort Jumped Near Skokie

Playing Drums on the Fontanelle

House of the Choking Chicken

a Play

The Celebrated Mr. C

Professor Galaxy’s Astronomical Circular Tent Spectacular

Picture This

The Voice on the Other End of the Line

Used Parts

The Road Scholar

Unfortunately Pozo

Romeo’s Blues

My Children

Island Man

Roasted Beets

Saint Christina the Astonishing

The Duchess of Doom

Stickman

The Unbelievable Transformation of Mr. Mugwump

Rebuilding Jericho (sooner or later)

Room 22 of the Amargosa Hotel and Opera House

Love Poem for a Bitch

The Ghost of Aunt Goldie is Back in Town

Strung-Out Manifesto

Little Louie Becomes a Man

The Player

A Poem for Casey

Mr. Lippy’s Snake Pit Lounge

Self-Portrait as Saint Dennis

Building the Phantom

Walking with the Neighbor’s Cat around the Block

Camner’s Classic Art Adventure

Wilma’s Banana Bread Boutade

The Trouble with Creon

Advice for Tracy the Third Time Around

Films Noir

To Nora on Her Wedding

The Comic

Aunt Julia’s Wooden Leg

Eli at 4

Sleazy Mona Finkeldink

Shattered

Bittersweet Blues for Beth (peroxide blondes for me)

Wag-at-the-Wa

Crossing the Footbridge

The Mama Chung Massacre

Pahrump

Getting Off on Easy Street

Under Jupiter’s Sad Eye

Getting Saved

Catching Minnows in the Diabolical Dishrag with Grandma

3:00 A.M. in Potter’s Field

Cinders and Ash

Postscripts by Night

Food for Thought

The Train Back

Monologue at Wits’ End

Bated Breath

Thieves’ Highway

The Main Drag

His Simple Majesty

Head Wind

Plastered

36 Minutes to Yeehaw Junction

Sounds Like Thunder

The Tongue on Wry Ramble

To a Muse

Mr. Gascon: Cock of the Walk

Retribution

The Queen Eclipsed

A Nice Poem

The Appointment

A Far Cry

Aunt Mary’s Meatloaf (televised)

Finished

Lenny the Loser at the Corner Bar

Playing Second Fiddle in Satan’s Orchestra

The Untimely Passing of a Time Traveler

The Extremely Ecstatic Ethel Eek

A Long Hard Knight

Elephant Dance

Saint John at 3:00 A.M.

The Screamer

The Junkie

Yad Vashem Revisited

Lot’s Wife

From on High

A Curbside Chat with Thin and Fat

The Business of Poetry

Killing Time

Shrew

Riding the Tumbrel

Walking Back to Front Street

Looking Down on Tinsel Town from the Seventh Floor

Wet

Amazing Grace Does Time

The Incomplete Tale of the Madman, the Cricket, and the Immaculate Conception

James on the Bus

Chowderhead

She Pretends Me

Uncle Luke’s Fish Camp

Street Music

Wednesday Night on the Bitter Half of a Trampoline

Whipping Boy

Recurring Dream

The Outlaw’s Daughter

Under the Hollow Knoll (Where the Weird Sisters Dance)

Strange Case

Spanking the Monkey

About Fiddle

The Wicked Son

Midnight at the Laundromat

7307 San Jose Boulevard

Viper

Between Heartbeats

The Prophet of Riverside Park

A Late Summer Night’s Dream written in honor of William Shakespeare who may not have written anything but I’m not getting into that here

The Waltz of the Raccoon and the Crab

The Lake

Lost Boy Lament

Poem for a Putz

Understanding

Wearing Shoes on Barefoot Beach

Whiskey Creek

Dark Alley Dancer

Violation

Zoot Suit

Fear

Self-Portrait on Stage

A Tale of a Stolen Tart (a sinister crime in rhyme)

Monster ABC’s (a nightmare primer for rotten kids)

The Zilch at the Bottom of the Wishing Well

When They Outlawed Necrophilia in Miami

The Fix

Petting Zoo

When the Duchess Gets Dizzy

Normal Street

Political Pull

Awkward Silences

Face Down on Heaven’s Floor

Tracks

Stringfellow Road

Subsequently Socrates (sort of)

Bermuda

Grey Skies

This is Not for Joanna with That Cop by Her Side

Grief

205

Tracking the Strumpet

The Monkey and His Organ Grinder

She Ain’t Rumpelstiltskin, But She Sure Feels Like It

The Gill Man Done Took Her

Passing Through Vernon, Florida, Much Too Slowly

The Bird Watcher of Toe Jam Hill

The Resilient Mr. Figg

Revenge of the Goat

Ezekiel’s Impasse

Matador

Heart Attack

El Loco

Giovanni

Mr. Tootle Says Goodbye

The Nag’s Head Pub Book Club

Kicking the Queen Out of Bed

The Queen of Highway 69

The Dandling Dance

A Hundred Miles to Go

Tom Pepper

Still Life: a Glass of Wind

Road Notes from the Middle Distance

Remains to be Seen

Boulevard Blues

From the Little Boy in the Red Cowboy Hat

The Kiss

Mystical Lady

Driving Lessons for My Children

Reading Rodrigo’s Permutated Palm

The Sixth Face Down Card

Fool’s Paradise

The Historical Histrionics of Salvador Alexander Lugo

The Nightmarish End of Tiny Mankowitz

The House on the Cliff

Sending the Canary into the Pussy

Blood and Thunder

Love on the Bayou (the voodoo you could do)

Early Dissolve from Muck City

Pacing Backwards on a Moving Train

Pandora’s Box (reverse cowgirl)

The Art of Reason

Simple Arithmetic

If It Could Happen to the Shmoo, It Could Happen to You

The Wedding Toast

Three

The Last Poem

Previous Publication Acknowledgements

About the Author

DEDICATION

for Sue and Judi and Eli

the best of me

and for my muse

that invisible drunken psychotic loon

who has whispered in my ear

for as long as I can remember

Scattered Crib Note Rhapsody

Meanwhile

with one foot in the grave

and the other in my mouth

and the Grim Reaper about to tap me on the shoulder

I don’t feel too good

I’ve danced until I can’t dance no more

till the dawn’s early light

till death did we part

and longer

I’m waiting for a phone call, a letter, or a knock at the door

But where should I begin?

I could start off with the final stroke of lightning rattling my bones into dust

or with a dry pen from a dead poet

or on a deserted street having pointless conversations with myself

or I could spark this up with my tongue traveling around my lips and returning to its bed

I could begin with antique looks

walking barefoot into heaven

and being shown a sign that says NO SHOES, NO SERVICE

right before a couple of goons toss me through the exit door

I notice that I walk with my eyes under my brim

and just before my feet

I think even the vultures would reject me

They say I was found on a dance floor

limbless

understanding silence before speech

and doing the Charleston in mind only

so I’ll begin here

Tonight

at the final stroke of pleasure

a thousand city lights flicker on my ceiling

my hands folded behind my head

I watch

remembering

that we were two branches from the same tree

and too good to be true

(my noose still hangs from one of us)

I called her through the fog

and made it across the room unheard

with a dry throat and crossing dreams

I notice my shadow follows me in the morning

and waits for me every night

like tonight

at the final stroke of midnight

both dead and alive

I hear the whisper of the rock in the valley

and the hiss of the snake beneath

when all I want is to get this show on the road

It’s times like these that I take my leave

then reappear years later

always one step ahead of myself

always waiting for that phone call, that letter, or that knock at the door

No

I don’t go looking for trouble

but somehow she always seems to find me

as I stand naked

facing the street from an open window

a burst of cold air surges forward

and knocks me back into bed

Tonight

at the final stroke of genius

I’m broken in this basement

dining with Duke Humphrey

and moving across the floor

formless

with starlight folded in my pockets

and foul weather in my head

I shake my skull and shift my thoughts around

It’s my way of changing my mind

During the day

I walk in darkness

hesitating only once

to lean against Liberty with my palm turned up

still doing the Charleston (in mind only)

and still wondering

where to begin

Ambulance Chaser

A book of law on his knee

The Good Book bursting into flames

His wife working feverishly at the spinning wheel

as angels circle overhead

like buzzards

Searching for something to profit by

he wipes the frost from the window of his study

and presses his face against the cold hard glass

and there in the distance on top of the hill

he witnesses the suffering of two common thieves

and the curious sight of his Immortal God

The Almighty

The Infinite Being

The Creator of All Things

bleeding

Embracing the Gargoyle

Through peculiar smoke screens

to the looking glass

I see myself

impaled

next to the door

above the floor

below the roof

between the lines

trapped in a prepositional nightmare

I look familiar but unapproachable

so I’ll keep my distance

my ear to stone

listening for a heartbeat

desperately feeling for a pulse

silence creeping into my ears

the sound of bells lost

in the dark burning night

bathing in cynicism

I can feel my wings grow,

my horns sprout,

my head getting larger

I am changing

maybe for better

maybe for worse

but either way I’m ready for it

I’ve been expecting this

so years ago I shed my skin

and taught myself

how to be

someone else

Tough Guy

He’s as tough as a burnt bull steak

and wears black leather to prove it

He roughs himself up nightly

just to feel the pain

You never know what he’ll do next

He’s a walking time bomb

He’s unpredictable

He does scary things

just for the fun of it

and calls himself Trouble

because that’s what he is

He never says much

and thinks even less

He makes sure everyone respects him

whether they do or not

He’s meaner than the streets he roams

and the dogs he bites

No one pushes him around

Nothing frightens him

He’s one of a kind

And he is the only person in the history

of the human species

to get honeymoon cystitis

from masturbation

Waiting for Sister to Come Home

We’re just sitting here

biding our time

watching the clock

counting the seconds

and twiddling our thumbs

waiting for sister to come home

But she’s out with the Devil tonight

and they went to his place for a nightcap

so we won’t hold our breath

The Greatest Love Poem Ever Written

Most people define love as a powerful emotion

that can appear when you least expect it

and sweep you off your feet

Love can be unselfish devotion and affection

It can be deep concern and the cherishing of one another

Love can be passionate

Love can be tender

Love can be magical

There are many ways to define love

I see love as an extraction kit lit by a Brooklyn lantern

on a mover’s dolly with an open-frame 120 VAC motor and

a series of pulleys, latches, and suction cups controlled by

a pull-chain switch on an electrolytic capacitor with torsion springs and a spy camera set on a siphon with spools of red thread and an oscilloscope attached to a watch crab with mounting screws, a squeeze bulb, and a bug detector as seen through a kaleidoscopic prism with an adjustable iris and an infrared thermometer attached to a radiation meter and a submersible pump powered by solar cells and a hand-cranked generator with popping pistons, filthy lucre, a field guide, and a swanee whistle

That’s how I see love

I’ve been told that for me, love may be hard to find

but nothing’s hard to find

if you know what you’re looking for

Meltdown on Main Street

Love and war intersect here

where Death is a frequent hitchhiker

where stop signs are dictators, yield signs are cowards,

and questions are quarantined

On Main Street

you can pay the toll with your looks alone

and resurrections have the right-of-way

hot dog venders and money lenders mingle in the mix

and troubled troubadours play for change

On Main Street

infidels cross themselves at crosswalks

and traffic laws have no place

you can talk as fast as you want here,

but don’t mince words

and if you slow to a crawl

you run the risk of falling behind in kind

On Main Street

where your past comes into focus

with edges sharp and corners clear

where traffic rolls both ways

but the destination remains the same

where jesters juggle kings and miracles are many

where man becomes wolf against his will

and the village idiot, in a pointless act of self-betrayal,

sets himself on fire just because he can

American Trilogy

I

She refuses handouts

afraid you will take back your charity

She will not wear clothes for the same reason

afraid you will come along and claim them

She wears the Wall Street Journal

the Wall Street Journal she wears

She lives in the old bus station across from the funeral home

watching spirits come and go (come and go)

On occasion she converses with them

about opera and Shakespeare and Chaucer

She used to be a teacher

a teacher she was, in the past (in the past)

she used to have a baby

but the baby died and her husband left and her world exploded

The goddamned thing exploded!

She refuses handouts

afraid you will rob her blind

as did man as did God

Now the city fathers want to relocate her

They held a meeting and declared her a public eyesore

With each breath she takes she brings down the value of life

for the rest of us (they say)

She refuses handouts

She refuses everything

(so she’ll have nothing anyone can take)

But she will accept Popsicles and oranges indirectly

if your intention is to leave them for the rats

II

Every day

like clockwork

12:13 P.M.

he staggers into the Bleaker Street diner

and all the normals stare in horror

or turn away in disgust

Every day

he sits in the same seat

in the same corner

with the same game

the same pain

as all the normals leave

Every day

he shakes off the wilderness,

pounds his fist against the table,

and feels for a dozen princes

in his pocket

Every day

he carefully opens his imaginary menu

and says to the waitress

who crosses herself and keeps her distance,

"I’d do anything for a cup of Joe, a bowl of broth,

and just one reason to live"

III

He washes your windshield for a quarter

whether you like it or not

He relieves himself on the Torch of Freedom

just to prove a point

then he wraps himself up in the obituaries

to rest

Bonus Eventus was the god of happy endings

once the toast of the town

once every child’s friend

now he lives on the streets

under the overpass in a cardboard box

hungry and ruined he snaps at gawkers

and waits for red lights and train whistles

just to make some bread

inside his head Armageddon repeats itself

every fifteen minutes

relentless spirits claw his soul

ogres beat him with nightsticks

dragons rape him nightly

evil witches cast their curses

with no fear of retribution

they steal his thunder cold

Bonus Eventus was the god of happy endings

he used to make cameo appearances

at the end of every fairy tale

just to wrap things up with a smile

to throw in a moral or two

but now he doesn’t show up at all

he can’t even make the bus fare

when he knocks on your car window you lock the door

you avoid his eyes

and when the light changes you leave him behind

in a cloud of smoke

so you can breathe easy

but as you step on the gas you glance in the rearview mirror

and he’s still watching you

he grows smaller by the moment

soon to be forgotten

but he will always remember you

with those fairy tales on your lap

when you looked forward to seeing him

a million years ago

Tying Up Saint Dimas

If you lost your mind, or your heart, or your soul, or even your car keys, just turn off all the lights and wait for Saint Dimas

chances are he took what’s missing

He steals everything he can get his sticky little fingers on

Saint Dimas is never satisfied

and criminals always return

He likes visiting strangers during storms for effect,

so don’t be a stranger

He gathers your possessions and lays them at the feet

of the cannibal hag with the blue face who lives at the bottom

of the quarry

She’s his wife on a lost bet with a demon

and Saint Dimas is a swindled thief

out for revenge

When you hear the skeleton key turn the lock,

when you hear the tumblers fall,

hold your breath, stick to the shadows, and then

jump the son of a bitch!

Introduce him to a blackjack like they belong together

and when he’s out cold tie his hands behind his back,

bind his feet, and gag him

so you won’t hear his screeching howl

Be sure to plug his nostrils or he’ll breathe flames

and burn you to a cinder

You’d better get it right the first time,

or he’ll do you in with a flash

Once he’s captured you’ll get back what you lost

but remember, Saint Dimas could con God if he wanted to

Metaphor

He is a metaphor who longs to be human

as though there were some glory in that

But he falls into his own traps

chewing off his own limbs to get free

everything has its price

Washed Ashore in Three Pieces

(Part 1)

These slow dissolves from city to city

take their toll like the Clara Bow Blues

They leave nothing but the night

and hard times on Easy Street

where the woman I love

is as cold as a witch

I remember her third cousin’s wedding

and how she dropped that bouquet on purpose

when she saw me in the shadows

So now I keep a lonely watch

from my throne in the desert

as her heart and soul fight for control

I avoid traps

I avoid humanity at all costs

They can’t have me for their sideshows

or their death camps

or their animal massacres

They can’t have me at all

and they hate me for it

I’m one of those rusted relics

those pitiful creatures with crappy karma

from my cracked mask to my last request

I’m asleep at the wheel of my own life

heading straight for a very bad ending

I take my own road and dig my own holes

I always have and I always will

and that’s my problem

I’m one of those restless rovers

who leave town every chance they get

but the difference is that I do it

just so I can come home again

just so I can come home

So I flip over my last card and there she is

the Red Queen

She’s all I want from this world

She’ll give me the game hands down

but I can’t give her anything in return

except herself

and that could never be enough

(Part 2)

Her gin-soaked holy man has his hand in my pocket

telling me it’ll bring me closer to God

His other hand is in God’s pocket

(you figure it out)

Your gangster’s in the reservoir! I sneered

but she didn’t believe me

so it all remained to be seen

and when she saw what remained for herself

she stopped laughing

she just stopped cold

The long distance operator broke in for change

but I had spent my last dime just to hear her voice

and then we were cut off

I knew I had to thread a needle with her hair

and run it through the limb of a dead man

because if that’s what it takes, that’s what you do

When I was young it used to be so fun

to let the dog chase the rabbit around the yard

I would laugh and laugh as that little rabbit ran

as fast as he could

When I got older I realized that the rabbit was running

for his life

with dog-faced death right on his heels

and now that I am the rabbit

I’m not laughing anymore

(Part 3)

I’ve been waiting for the lady with my heart in stir

to remove this disguise

It clings too tightly

It strangles me

It’s a hot night on Bourbon Street

and I’m puking rhetoric

wasting away under torn sheets

with dizzying revelations

feeling combination euphoria and terror

some kind of injured lover

spewing sarcastic opinions

and declaring war on evil men

I could bury bottles along the path where they walk

or say a mass in their name to get rid of them

whatever works

whatever does the trick

In the end I expect to be found in some Hellhole

with my head on a typewriter

and my heart in the trash

surrounded by empty coffee cups

and emotional poverty

The Red Queen, she’d give me the game hands down

but I’ll never find the words to tell her

so all I’m left with are these:

I’m afraid of success

I’m afraid of failure

and I have a good shot at both

so I stare at the ceiling and shiver in fear

doomed to play the hero in my own life story

Nietzsche’s Daughter from Behind

Sometimes I think she’s built too low

when my verse blows off her wig

It’s a premeditated crime, I won’t deny that

Feeling sabotaged from the inside out

She doubles-over with stomachaches

when I tell her I love her

But I’m a passionate man

I understand these things

Besides, I’m only using her for my own creative ends

I’m only using her as a bridge between good and evil

Once I’m there,

she’s on her own

Later Eminence

She may someday

be somebody

but I won’t hold my breath

Slew-footed and knock-kneed

she gets in her own way

and never seems to move

Someday she may

rule the world

but I wouldn’t bet on it

she has enough trouble just being herself

Cross-eyed and tongue-tied

she never makes sense

with two points of view on everything

Some say she may

live forever

immortalized by some heartbroken bard

but I won’t count my chickens

no I won’t

Quasimodo’s Lament

Esmeralda

in the light now

surrounded by her laughing friends

They make her forget

Me

in the dark still

Pope of Fools

chained to my tortured soul

wishing I was someone else

As Vespucci Spins

I can see you

from the left side only

I never knew how rusted you were

how set on self

Your telephone poles whip by

like crucifixes in a funhouse mirror

while everyone’s getting ready

for the weekly Annual State Fair

purple flowers here and there

decorate the decadence

A sign insists that Judgment Day

has been postponed because of rain

Your clocks are too slow

Your wheels too fast

I can see you

from the right side only

I never knew how lost you were

how hard to find

Your controls in the hands of vandals

Your image in shambles

I can’t recognize your ghost anymore

pink hotels here and there

locals turn a prophet

A sign reads: The Lord is watching BEWARE!

and there’s nothing you can do to stop it

Who paints your yellow lines, America?

Who paints your yellow lines?

Staring at the Clock with Both Eyes Shut

So I tried to deny you

when you stole all I had and left me stranded

in a place without language

in a play without lines

My Shakespearean weakness and desolate daze

will never leave me

like you did

Then I tried to forget about you

where ancients dream and seasons change

and they know the wind by his first name

Where you haunted my nights

and played my heartstrings with nimble fingers

Your melody lingers, but your lyric lies

I forgot about you

but you found me

You came out of the faucet

and jumped out of closets

I hurled you at kings and exchanged you

for false fortunes

I’ve loved you forever and have hated you longer

but we have yet to meet

I want you gone so I can breathe again

but you’ll hide in my pockets

and under my hat

knowing I’ll reach for you when I need to

in a place without language

in a play without lines

Odd Man Out

The odd man out attends hangings just to kill time

In bed with nobody, he puts two and two together

given all the facts and both sides of the story

Relentless in his pursuit of happiness,

the odd man out spends all his waking hours

doing pirouettes in the Laundromat

Banned in Babylon

When I do it

it usually rains

the living run for cover

and the dead wait for me to catch my breath

When I do it

it seems to come from somewhere else

I lose control and it takes over

it eats me alive and makes me crazy

time stops, the sky falls,

and I reveal myself for who I am

When I do it

critics cringe

fists clench and teeth grit

ears burn, tongues wag, and eyes pop

fingers move on record grooves

When I do it

birds fly and flowers die

clowns cry as lives collide

When I do it

waves crash as ships sink

love stinks when hearts break

fate escapes when innocence lies

and all the sons of men,

they rise

The Small Time Slow Blues Shuffle

It was conceived AFTER it was born and that ruined its life

Tripping cripples, Small Time shuffles down Broadway

stepping on cracks

breaking backs

making eye contact with lunatics

It sleeps by day, shuffles by night

Small Time got them blues bad

Them creep up its spine to its brain

and back down to its heart

Them move slowly, them blues

Small Time exposes itself to the blind

It lies to the deaf

It sits in the back of the Pussycat Theater

with one hand on the Bible and the other earning a living

It shuffles one seat over

undresses strippers with its eyes

and squeals like a pig (drawing heat)

Small Time never had what it takes

so it took what it has

Small Time got them blues, still

It makes love through cross-pollination

Its children got thorns

It won’t get near them

It hurts too much

Lord, it hurts too much

Small Time, master of self-deception

climbing fences

shoving shills

beating bums

pushing pushers

Them blues come and go with cramps

It rumbas with hookers and never pays

It sees itself as something unseen

It is the stuff nightmares are made of

Small Time sold its soul for pocket change a long time ago

and has lived to regret it

It has lived to regret it

Fixing Wagons

As 3:00 A.M. rolls around on its back

little plastic saints peel themselves off of dashboards

and gather under an abandoned ’57 Chevy

to plan their next accidents

They agree on more head-on collisions

and fewer fender-benders for gender-benders

and anyone else who turns the wheel

It’s time to get serious! snarls Saint Christopher

"They keep us suffocating and boiling alive

in those goddamned cars. And now, it’s payback time.

ARE YOU WITH ME BOYS?!"

And as all the saints