First Two Lines From a Dream, Followed by Lines Written Immediately Upon Waking

First Two Lines From a Dream, Followed by Lines Written Immediately Upon Waking


Sweet leaf Keats drew my whole life over
It gave flesh to me

Tumbling over mountains over
rivers, through valleys
like a borg in heat

SHE stoned me
and cried for me

I let down my dress
and went to
heaven

Absolved of nothing
yet resolved to everything
I entreated the sun

Infrared rays reveal
astrological scars
amidst the ruins,
like a farmer's car
amidst faint
festoons of
pansies.

New song, with lyrics by Darin Stevenson and myself

The Puddle Piano

(set to tune of The Gatlin Brothers "All the Gold in California")


G She told some little children who never read her poems
That all the puddles in the world led to other D worlds...

like a puddle of G water with the sun shining on her
is full of the reflection of the shiner her D self

G or a puddle of jello in red or green or yellow
is molded like a meadow of cherry lemonlime D snow

chorus

Imagine a C piano arising from a
G puddle though, but there's only this room D really.
Even if it’s filled with G stars


G Suppose I got a piano? Bold in pianissimo!
and everyone came to listen. Or no one came at D all.

Let’s say, instead, that G judges came. or maybe some surveillors
a whole sea of assailers to D drown all the notes

Some dreams might be G inside me. And even the piano.
Some spirits eviscerate D Ancient urgen G cies.

chorus

C Imagine a piano arising from a G puddle though
But there's only this room D really.
Even if it’s filled with G stars
stars D no one.
could possibly ob G serve.


- words liberally borrowed from my friend Darin Stevenson

(first draft)

the piano puddle song (set to tune of all the gold in california)

G She told some little children. ( Who never saw her book tho)

That all the puddles in the world...Led to other D worlds...

G like a puddle of water, with the sun shining on her

is full of the reflection

of the shiner herself

G or a puddle of jello, in red or green or yellow

is molded like a meadow,

of cherry lemonlime snow

G Suppose I got a piano?

Bold in pianissimo,

and everyone came to listen.

Or no one came at D all.

G Let’s say, instead, that judges came.

or maybe some surveillors

a whole sea of assailers

to D drown all the notes

G some dreams might be inside me.

And even the piano.

Some spirits eviscerate. D

Ancient urgencies.

C imagine a piano arising from a G puddle tho

But there's only this room D really.

Even if it’s filled with G stars

stars D no one.

could possibly ob G serve.

Too best to love

Dream Party

Anahid you were standing there, next to the table, trying to say what Eternity was all about. I couldn't hear you, your voice was too low, like a whisper, but I could feel your breath. It was slowly arriving from the right, while in my left ear Paganini played through time and space into a bluetooth speaker. I was caught between the two. I asked you who the author was and you didn't know. It didn't matter, but I wanted you to know. You said the poem was about "being abroad." You said you didn't really know how to put it. You whispered, "it's about not putting all of your joys in one basket." The moment was eternal, yet I knew it couldn't last.

Clarice, I was leaning over reading when you walked up. You weren't shy. It was me this time, softly saying to you, "Eternity is about being abroad. I don't know the author." You were caught suspended it seemed to me between Paganini's ancient fiddle of fire, and my cool breath.  

Gertrude. On fire unfettered you show. The show you shew unfettered you, unshoes the fair notion of fire. The eternal flame is in the saying of the same. The fiddle of Pagannini solves the riddle of the speech, eternally. 

Frank, I knew I was going to have to Dick Tracy you in too, on some kind of retro-futurist wristwatch, which is just so yesterday. I'd rather hang out with you in Eternity, dear, while Paganini solves the mystery of Joe.