Thursday, October 29, 2009

Pissing off the deck, 10-30-09

Out on the highway
a rig double-honks;
I imagine it's for me

Saturday, October 24, 2009

"Happy Birthday."

I hid, tonight.
When I came back from the bar, I hid behind the garage.
I didn't want you to see me like that.
I didn't want to stink and be drunk and to have you think that I am as much of a loveless waste; the way I see myself.
I hid the way I hide from everything, afraid to take account; afraid to take responsibility.

My younger brother, I dream good things for you.
Learn from my mistakes; tragedies.

I wish I wasn't a broken man for your birthday, Bruno, but I am.

But you'll be better stronger and faster.
You'll be a billion-times the man I am.

You already are.

Happy Birthday, young brother.
Happy 12th Birthday, Bruno.


"A plainful story from a sist'ring vale..."

Oh Alberta
With your big sky
And let-down eyes.
You killed me today.
Thank you for reminding me that I am
a fool.
I ought to be more careful with my love.
I ought to be a man, again, and alone.
Oh, Alberta, with your sky and the way you make me


Sunday, October 18, 2009

“It is not the ship so much as the skillful sailing that assures the prosperous voyage.”

When I caught that cross-wind and the mizzen mast was spun, well, that's when I knew that I was in love with you.
Sails filled, weak willed, we put it down for the night, stern-strong.
we finished that sail for the day and fuck the begging.
Time for beans and coffee.
And catch that free-rig, you fool.
Free-rigs, man.
Where would that take us?


"Let me but bear your love, I'll bear you cares."

We slept through most of it, the storm, you and I. Oh, Thomas, you good cat, and all you wanted was a sip of milk and a touch of tuna; we have similar diets, oh cat.
I signed all of my letters with love, but some of them were made uncomfortable by that.
Some people will never accept love, you know, as they are afraid of their own.
Oh, Thomas, you gray sweet fucker, tell them.
Tell them what I can not, any longer.
Reign o'er me.
Oh love.
Oh gray cat, or forever, oh everything under the eyes of Buddha and even beyond that.
Oh nothing.

Oh, Sid.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009


Well, even if you do
Or don't.

I am out like that.

Wanted/not wanted.

I do want you, though.

I'll fit when you hit me, take the chalked place.

I really hate these 2x4s.

-Sid Hart

Sunday, October 11, 2009

7x My Size

Another song...

They say I've got to fight it
Say that's what I've got to do
Say I can dream up my own weapons
Say, "We believe in you!"
They say I've proved myself against many lesser guys
But this is seven times my size

They say I need the prize
But must not think about the purse
Say I must believe I'm good
Or I'll only end up worse
Say I've got no chains on me but those I forge myself
Architect of my own cell

Sister, will you arm me?
I dreamed my knives away
Sister, will you fight for me?
I'll gladly pay

And now it sits on me and I haven't got the strength
And now it jumps away and I haven't got the length
And now it blinds me, but I don't need my eyes
To know it's seven times my size

Do not believe her, when she says that you are strong
It's all deceit, sir, when she tells you you are long
It's always there, sir, from the cellar to the skies
And it's seven times your size

Saturday, October 10, 2009

"Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path, for the world was transformed and he was enthralled."

As I flew over the roof-tops to you, your Northern nest, I noticed things.
It was a tough flight but I did it and I had the image of you in my mind's eye the entire time.
I noticed that the trees upon which I used to rest and sun my wings were cold and leafless.
But it mattered not, as I flew on and into your heart.

The flat lines of the prairie gave me lift and I caught those thermals and rose up and out of it all, and again, into your heart.

I noticed that the places I used to land were bare, but it was good to know it, as I found other places to settle from the night's bitter wind and chill.

I puffed my feathers and shook my head to soften the frost that had settled. I found an open place, free of ice, and drank. And then I flew again.

It was so strange to think of you far from me like that. I felt alone but I flew onward. Does that make sense?

So, when I do land and rest, will you warm my wings and let me stretch my legs?
Will you know a Bluebird when he lands and calls for you?

Will you take me once again into your nest and tell me of other birds and how I out-flew them for your softness?

I will tell you of an Albatross I met and how he can never rest.
I will show you the fanning and span of my winged love, I will chase away the cats and mend your little heart.

If only you would have me.


In your Northern nest, my lover.

-Love Bluebird

Friday, October 09, 2009

"O comfortable friar! Where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, and there I am. Where is my Romeo?"

I am right here.
As I have always been; no balcony.

While you wept on the gates, dear lover, I have been cleaning the lines of this engine and replacing all the weak seals. I tightened the alternator belt and changed filters and oil.

The hoses and clamps were tight, and we were off.

Oh, Juliette, what will they say when I run them over in a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado?
When they chase us by horse?
When they try to hunt us in the night but I am doing 98 MPH with your head on my shoulder and Chubby Checker on the radio, it's a joke, Juliette.

And zoom into it all you scared girl. Juliette, let go and fall in. I have a leather interior with custom bucket-seats from a Mustang and a dual-intake on the Carburetor. Two belts on the fan and a quick kiss and the wrench comes out and things need tightening.

Also, let's put the top down and make-out under the stars, Juliette.


"And behold this day I am going the way of all the earth."

I saw a dead body under a sheet under the wheels of a bus today. Everything was frozen in place and taped-off. I don't know if it was a man or a woman. But it was a dead body and it seemed to resonate like that. With me and with the crowd that had gathered, murmuring.

I crossed the street and wondered about my own death.

Would it come like that? Heavy and unannounced? Will I be under a sheet, under the wheels of a bus someday?

Fuck that. I want to die of a broken heart. I want to die from lack of love, or maybe too much love. I can never decide. Both can kill a man, you know.
But I want to die with love on my lips and want in my heart.
I want to croak your name with my last breath and reach into a dream.

My possessions scattered and none.
My legacy but a wave. In and out. Not the water at all.

I am drinking to you and also to me. With this small glass.

I love you, and if you want to kill me, please don't use a bus.
Under the wheels? Under a sheet?
Already we are sheeted, under the meat-wheels of conception.

Make it at least, and also, original.


Thursday, October 08, 2009

Mea culpa.

I needed it. At the time, I needed it.
And ought not to be mocked for it, because need defines reality.
And I needed it. Then.

And there it was.
A single star.

Home and dry.

Saturday, October 03, 2009

After it all, and then some. You couldn't even buy me a fucking beer. You may not have ever known it, or cared, but you left me a battered man, a wounded child.
Please, stop taking it out on me.
And please stop breaking my little heart.
Stop killing me, like that.

Sid (junior) Heart.

Sid Heart will love you better, baby...

"Whence comest thou, shady lane? and why and how?"

Whence comest thou?

Later when the lights go down and I makest thee cometh?
When I kiss your neck and lower it all to a new place? A better country?
Hell, yes I would fight for that.
Hell, yes. I would kiss it all for that. I would fucking die in my sick drunken sleep for that.
I would do everything and also, everything else.
Because it's love, and that is the final place;
the best seat under the shade, on the lotus.
The best.