LANCE

Today is the future

of the past

We try to make it last

Faster when the laughter

Disappears



I’m left with

The nearness

And the nothingness

I fear in my soul

Old and young

At the same time



I lost my mind in

A cloud of vultures



She’s great I’m sure

But I haven’t really

met her yet



Be nice to the kid

You said

And everything

’ll be fine



(photo by Xavier Veal)

MYSTIC MEMENTOS



I’m a million miles away
and I can’t cast a spell
over you

Lately
when I’m blazing
I’m amazed
that I even have
something left
to get started

I created a picture
of an entire life
Spent together
with you

Mystic mementos
and memories

What might have been

Now you have built
A world of fabric
scraps
Bronze trinkets
Plastic spoons
And tears
All held together
tightly
with delicate
thread

These little pieces
Mean so much
Each a chapter
in a frayed book
you took
from a lonely shelf
somewhere

The pages have
remnants of faces
I see myself in one
Maybe in the next world
When emotions overflow
You’ll stitch me up

But what do I know

PEACE OUT

There's something
about a chorus
When the verses
are a blur
In devotion
and intension
to dance
In a ceremonial rain
We'll try again
to become
friends
Or at least
Co-exist
Peacefully

One of your many
personalities
Is slightly dyslexic
On coke or dope
or Jack Daniels
You'll hurl
your skinny body
down
from a fire
escape

Only a year
and a month later
I see it all again
Another friend gone
He climbed out
a bathroom window

and muttered a scared line
for a song I'll never write

HAPPY ENDING

A light bulb blows out 
the phone doesn't ring
I've got my suspicions
And you had your fists

I'm feeling creepy
I'm feeling blessed
I want to kiss you
Regardless the risk

Darkness stretches
Across your cheek
An incomplete sentence
Or something obsolete

Let me begin again
A narrative
In first person
With the last chapter
Missing in action

Where did our happy ending go?
Where did our once upon a time lead?

To afterhours bars
And new spots to cop
Empty parks
And public bathrooms

Times Square
Astor Place
Or those exotic stops

The bodega
At Third & C

It's the same old scene
Cigarettes and scary dreams
Midnight sidewalks
And eyes of green

I hear you whisper
When I scream
I feel you breathing
Next to me

A suitcase of memory

Get this picture down
White underwear
An empty glass
A door without a keyhole

I'm half a word away
And I'm not sorry

A shift in weight
That took a thousand years
To properly name
Contra pasto

Seen in Rome
On a Vespa
Or in New York
On a skateboard

But no one's got
A good idea
To paint on a ceiling
Anymore