The Price

All knowledge comes at a price. 

When the cost is ignorance, it’s a bargain

but when it demands more – 
innocence or fidelity or faith – 
it can be unaffordable. 
Sometimes knowledge exacts its price from unwilling hands, 
at the point of violence.

It’s Funny How Beautiful

I

It’s funny how beautiful the world looks this morning
In the glow of a love as ancient and inevitable as the rising sun
The day after a show, or something equally profound,
Hums and crackles with a renewed belief in the ability
Of ideas and passions to share their strength
Across times that share no dates
Between people who have not met
And paths that do not cross

II

We carried your love across the oceans of night
Through the land of dreams
Just to plant your flag in the soft soil of this morning

III

Long may she wave

IMG_2351

Every generation…

Every generation produces a group of artists fueled by and strung out on drugs, sex, poverty, and other forms of desperation and desire who create something entirely new. Subsequent generations produce those who copy the original group, note for note, word for word, stroke for stroke, and believe they are carrying on the tradition of their idols. They are not.

IMG_3281

What I Mean

What I mean when I say “I love you,”
and what it means when you hear it
are two very different things.
That’s where words break down.
They can’t adequately describe the feeling,
it must be demonstrated to be understood,
if even that can do it.

Like the back of my hand

I

We came from the place where they mold your dreams into memories that do not fade. We walked along the river that flows both ways until the machine ran out on us and the molten rocks flowed down the hills. We talked with the man who taught one of us how to swim and invited him out for a meal.

II

Before we could eat with the man who taught swimming we first had to eat with the next generation, growing and laughing and eating their fill with appetites we will never know again. We also partook, in one place or the other, in rituals of celebration and remembrance.

III

On the way home from both of our meals we took local roads past the place where the wolves prowl the rails and the snakes draw the innocent out of their shells and into the woods where it’s easier to feast on them. I’ve come to know this place like the back of my hand.

IMG_1851

They Melted The Mountains For Us

I

They melted the mountains for us, dear

It was for us that they poisoned our planet

They drove all those species to the brink of extinction

and beyond

for our comfort, our safety, and our pleasure

II

I strangled myself in service to the monsters I made

I called to Death, “take me,”

then I hid from the first sign of his cloak

III

I negotiated my salary using imaginary numbers

and wiped the slate clean with alcohol

Now I wait for the sun to tell me lies

but so far

it just tortures me with the cruelties of truth

 

sun