The breeze it blows my thought
Away unto the tree
Like branches stretching out
I rustle with the leaves
It’s there among the many
Shadows I can see
The physics of my body
Expand and cease to be
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Through the air vents of my room
I’ve known a many artist in my day, say
Today old friend you come to mind
And how for a short time, your voice divine
Scratchy and old, though, you and I know
Age is just a number and it’s you who’d show
Me this: Dear, Gavin Heron Vante
Who needed a place to rest his weary head
For the night I offered you some bread
Where that night you had said, Ah man!
I haven’t seen this show in years, mind if I watch
Married with Children, Amen! Amen!
Then later I’d record you playing all the chords
I always had wish I could, watching your fingers
Slide and swoop through Sloop John B
I tried to sing harmonies but who was I kidding
Aloof in my eagerness to know everything and all
You had to offer and more, more, more I cried
Singing, drinking in the night like two old friends
Because we were in fact just two ageless nobodies
In the effortless night of somebodies
Giving me your time, cradling my wine
Looking through old photo’s now
I can still feel your spirit sing softly through
The air vents of my room
The next morning of course, saying farewell
Dropping you at Austin’s Coffee
Collecting your bicycle and taking the trash out for a buck
Needing my fix of early morning talkie
That I’m sure no one ever really gave a hoot about —
Now I hear you’re out of the Coma
That took you too soon like a phantom in the night
You were right when you told me
To take it easy man, oh man, Gavin Heron Van
Where there is no plan there in lies the plan
I now know the meaning of that age old saying
Those were the days, good sir, I give my praise
Sincerely,
Dave
P.S. There’s a place for you here, always
Manhattan’s in the Village
You know what they say, don’t yuh?
Can’t live with em, can’t live without em
But don’t get me twisted, I’m not talking about women
though the skin beneath my tongue’s still sore
my heart’s still heavy and well
there’s nothing quite like seeing her smile come morning
but anyway like I was saying to this jug of doom
in the evening gloom where I choose not one but two
and then two more to boot because, well, hell
who am I kidding? Nobody but the moon this evening
cause it’s this bitter sweet feeling
the kind you feel deep down in the rumbling, stumbling night
where it all gets so far gone, where nothing meaningful is born
where it all makes some sort of convoluted sense
and alas, once again I am but the floorboards dull creak
where I am like the riverbed flowing calmly and discrete
where life is but a dream and I am dreaming once again
of you dear friend, rustling like the leaves at my front door.
Oh dear friend, how I long to walk the beach again.
How I long to hear your sick, silly, sweet voice again
like those long ago up all Friday nights of old
all those Brooklyn winter blue’s and yellow streetlights
guiding us home, or at least to Crown Fried Chicken where
like two youthful bums we’d scavenge our pockets for change
enough to buy a couple chicken wings, coke, and pint
enough to settle the bone, cold, sidewalk snow till home
where we’d fall arm and arm up stairs
to that old wood, smoke filled, railroad apartment you’d call Grove.
And though I don’t often pray, in my own little way
I do for you now as I did then, driving back to my Long Island apartment.
I pray this little song of self, this little song of you, this small token of my appreciation
for your boundless soul and effortless style and class.
I ate too much cheese, I’d shout while holding a kitchen knife to my throat!
Where in a Polaroid our youth is kept,
where so many nights while you slept I wept,
where you’d give me your bed for a smile,
where I’d talk with Forest about everything and nothing for a while,
long enough not to feel alone in that maddening, crazy New York glow.
So I write this little poem, not enough but enough to show you
I’m still listening through the terror behind the walls.
Dear friend,
How are you?
I can’t live with you, but hell, I can’t live without you.
Manhattan’s in the Village
God knows we never had the scratch, aligned
I feel inclined to take this time and offer you my best
impression not impressed?
CALL ME SPIDER! CALL ME SPIDER!
I just had to get these salami’s off my back.
I just had to sing this short praise of you Mac.
Everyone I know’s the titles
Everyone I know’s the titles
They just don’t read the words
Writing’s an endless cycle
I start to feel the burn
Sunlight it is healing
Too much can make it worse
Moonlight is revealing
My answer’s questioned first
But who am I to argue
The writing’s on the wall
No pages left to sift through
Like dominoes they fall
Everyone I know’s the titles
They just don’t read the words
This feeling’s infantile
I know not which is worse
The man in me knows something gold can stay
It’s an early morning wake up(wake up)
Adjust your hair put on your makeup(makeup)
It’s just a temporary state but(state but)
Either way you’ve got to make up(make up)
For all the time that you pissed away
For every second mistake you made
For every little indiscretion
For all the time you failed to mention
I love you so much my stomach burns
I love you so much that I’m lost for words
I love you so much see my eyes are pure
So stick around and we can make this work
You formed this feeling in Long Island(I land)
On my back and watch the world spin(world spin)
Back and forth in all direction(directions)
They only form a brief connection(except when)
The one’s you love turn from gold to grey
Tell Johnny Frost said nothing gold can stay
I do my best to find another way
The way I work is slow but baby hey
I love you so much I get dizzy spells
I love you so much you’re my wishing well
I love you so much now I’m overwhelmed
I love you so much you’re my homeward bound
Your eyes are healing now I’m lost for words
So stick around let’s watch the season’s turn
I’m slow with change but baby I’ve got faith
This fire burns you are my great escape
The man you met knows there’s a better way
The man in me knows something gold can stay
Topanga Canyon sunlight
Topanga Canyon sunlight
falls gently on my head
The moon hangs in the distance
her eyes blue sky in bed
A squirrel’s picking berries
the tree of life is fed
It’s summer in the valley
there’s no more to be said
this morning.
Warm sunlight.
Warm coffee.
Warm thoughts,
are enough for me
this morning.
The simple things we choose.
Hate is easy.
Love is hard.
Truth is the only thing
that will set you free.
Freedom is man made.
Man is weak.
Women are God’s strongest creation.
God is love
and love conquers all.
I would never hurt you.
I will always honor
and respect you.
My love, there is no room
for anything more.
In the early evening calm
She breathes in deep
and exhales his dreams.
In the early evening calm
he falls back asleep.
And just as she wakes
in the mid-morning sun,
he brings to her coffee
just after his run.
this morning’s shower.
Without even knowing
her beauty wash’s over me
while I listen to her sing
from this morning’s shower.
Words Of An Average White Male 