The Clouds They Seem

 
In my dream, the clouds they seem so real
Begging me into the atmosphere until they fall apart
Like thoughts I don’t own
But why I don’t know
“You have to lift that bale”
With what I don’t know
The ‘why’ stays at home
“You have to live the lie
In bluest blue sky”

Ain’t no home for the homesick, maybe
Cold War cars gonna drive you crazy
“Son, you have to lift that bale”/ful
Eyes of the breastfed baby
Save my might for the one that made me
“Son, you have to lift it up”
To me or my maker maybe
Cold War car, gonna drive into the sun
“You have to lift it up
Until your brown eyes
Drive into the blue sky”

You must commit to the line and the lie

 
A Dream Of Fishes

 
It was not that long ago
You broke my arm and drove me home
The headlights in your hair were running
From your face into a dream of
Fishes that can’t find their way
And troubadours that rue the day
Their songs were seen as second-rate
And no one wanted them
For their parades . . .

. . . They were not wanted in parades.

Let’s live in a manger
Let’s not talk to strangers
Let’s live in a manger
Let’s never be strangers, girl.

 
Bring Out The Trumpets

 
Tell me all this time that we were never very far from your mind
Where the angels sing and a broken clock keeps time
and say: “If you don’t build a boat, then I won’t give you a sign
But if you bring the trumpets, I will bring the fire.”

You bring the trumpets, I will bring the fire
You bring the tightrope, I will walk the wire
You bring the body, I will light the pyre

(Could you settle for this?
Would you settle for less?)

Oh, you know that I wanted more
From the end of our world

 
The New Misogynist Has No Fun At A Rodeo

 
Smooth as a grave-robber
send for your first daughter
and I’ll take the town with one fist

You play the bank-robber
I’ll kill the town fathers
and we’ll sign the deed with our fists

Mama never told me ’bout the happy kind of worry
Mama, why’d you teach me wrong?
Papa never told me you get old then you hit 30
Why, oh why is life so long?

Mama said that I’d not last long
but I have grown so much in a year

Mama never told me that her sex was out to hurt me
Mama, why’d you teach me wrong?
Once I fell in love, but it was over in a hurry
Why, oh why is life so long?

 
Fish Are To Be Frightened Of

 
All my needs come with diseases
Fish are to be frightened of
Keep it safe until we need it
This is what you’re frightened of

I don’t want to know what your ever-after holds
I don’t want to know of your ever-afte

Hold me like a lover (but just not yours)
‘Til I get frightened of your furs
old me like a lover but don’t dare curse
Lest I get frightened of your words
(Your verbs they frighten me)

Leave me alone, let me go
Like water running from the fountain
(in-out, in-in)
We’ve seen too much here to hope
This rock will make it up the mountain
(in-out, in-in)

 
With My Purse As A Pillow

 
Tell me is this really what you wanted?
I have the patience of a ghost but you know
lately I’ve been haunted by a doubt:

Are you what you seem to be?

Don’t read into all these favours that I’m flaunting
I think charity is wasted on the wastrels
that might want it so I ask:

Are you what you seem to be to me?

Make my bed in the road tonight
With my purse as a pillow
I want to hug you dry this time

Back, I’ll be back
With a mouth full of blood
One grey cat in the window

 
Even Then I Dreamed Of Floods

 
If you hold me in the morning and that don’t make it better
You can hit me in the head, you know that might make it better
Everybody’s talking about you, they’re wondering just what you found
On your way down

Hold onto your purse
when the first man says:
“There’s another man dead.”

If you right me in the morning and that don’t make it better
You can wrong me in the day, you know that might make it better

I want to see you kick Judy in the cunt
No — no hospital
Girls like that can take a slap
And if they can’t, who cares?
I’ll still have much much better hair

[   ]

Tell me you want to just ride out the rough years
And keep me in your hair, with all the good kept there
Please can we just make the best of the bad years?
This hunter can wait but he’s honestly asking
He just wants to be King (of your kingdom)

[   ]

* [   ] from John Glassco’s Memoirs of Montparnasse and Stephen Scobie’s McAlmon’s Chinese Opera. Used with love (but without permission).

 
Welcome To My Leaky Boat

 
I won’t write songs, not for my girl
She don’t want me; she wants the world
Welcome to my leaky boat
The moving mess that I call home

Words or weapons as defense
Make your stand or make amends
Sitcks and stones and broken bones
You want shelter, I want home.

 
Don’t Make Me Eat Your Wedding Cake

 
Please don’t make me eat your wedding cake
Please don’t let me fall down on my faith
I been wrong, but this time I think you’ve led me astray
I been wrong, but I think a curly’s caught in your veil

Please don’t make me eat your birthday cake
Please don’t let me die at my own wake
I been wrong, but this time I think you’ve led me astray
I been wrong, but I think my voice is caught in your wail

And I will “la la la”
Until the dumb girls sing “la la la”

Just hit me with the right note,
Give me back my sore-throat boy

Well first you say that Pilate, he ain’t got no right
And then you say the Romans, well, have they got might?
I don’t know. I am not debating wrong and right,
‘Cuz I just wanna take a bridesmaid home tonight.
It’s your show.

 
St. James In A Frock

 
Hey St. James
What are you doing in that frock?
Dave says you secretly like cock, but he’s just
Lame St. James
What are you living for if not
The pleasures of a pretty frock? But it’s not
Gay St. James
What are you thinking of but cock
When your own bedroom door is locked and you sigh?

Until the world
Eats its own words
You go unheard . . .

Knowing the world is not enough,
Until you call it on its bluff
(and yes), you’ve been lied to

Hey St. James
You like the boys best in your head
Kept underfed and castrated, let’s get this
Straight St. James
Barring the cock has been removed
A saint you’ll stay by day but
you won’t be alone when you mind goes
where the lights are low