In Paris

The night falls on me mercilessly.
My eyes open and close like shades.
I went to the harbor and watched the boats
come in-there are lights flickering
In the windows of the boats.
I turned my eyes away.
It’s hard to watch this all day.
I start walking, my head bent forward,
and the wind flicks my hair every which way.
There are the sounds of boats on the harbor.
Some boats are big; others are small
As cars.  The little boats speed along like nobody’s business.
I walk down the street,
People scream my name-now, how would they know that,
I think to myself, they couldn’t
Know my name, for certain-I don’t know any
of these people!  I am an American, not
French, not European.  In the back of my mind,
I sense danger-the danger of an oncoming
Storm.  The storm of my youth.
Words come from my lips:  “I need to eat.”
So I go into a little café on the end of
Bridge Road.  Bridge Road has a lot of shops.

What the Eagle

The eagle soars with its limbs-I have not been outside today.
The hearts of dreams that I play, are withered in shades of gray.
Everyone says I should be a serpent, quick and loud-
But all I am is a toad.

Where are all the people, I ask.
I found my nerves at last.

I shoulder fortune like a lamb,
For lunch I want a ham.

I’m not an eagle, but I take flight.
In the dark of the bitter, and cold, night.

The snow is falling and the eagle is at rest-
Snow falls upon his nest.

To the middle, to the middle

Of it all.  He catches me while I fall.  

I can’t find myself
Behind the tree-delicious cakes in a cake shop, I have fallen
In love with baking.  

The old mother tells me she has a book of cakes,

And do I want to look at them.  

I said no, I shouldn’t be thinking 
about
Cakes at this time of night, or day, 

I should say, it’s only 4pm.  I have fallen
Off a cliff into an abyss, the abyss is in my garage, 

wrapped in tar paper.
Sometimes I watch tv at night.  

There’s nothing on.  
So I make up stories to myself,
That sound just about right.  

The middle is not about right.  It’s the middle, I said!
The middle!

I stare straight at the sun.  I’m not the only one.  

The Street, the Street

Where am I?  Why am I here?  My words are crystal clear.
The cowboy walks with his head held high.  I couldn’t find a way down
The dark street.

A man follows behind me, quickly-where can I go?
I am lost on the hill below.
Take me to a different place that is far from here,
Where I can be safe from harm.  Take me to a place that is forever warm.
The old man wants icecream.
His name is Seth.  Seth, call to me,
my beloved

Brother, call to me in the depths of the
night, night as dark as sin.  I might win.
I have no idea, nothing to contemplate.
Where did reason run off to?  I like to run
With the wind blowing my hair back.
It’s simple as this:  I have a boat,
I offered my maiden fair to ride it with me,
she said no,

she was afraid of the wind
And dogs.  There are no dogs in the water, I whisper to her.
There are no dogs anywhere!
My shout was lost in the wind.  The sun glares down.
I can’t see past my forehead,
I can’t see for anything.
I walk away from the boat and go down town.

The Key

The key was in my hand,
I walked through town-
My mind was thrown like a rubber band,
I have called my own.

Dreams are plenty here on earth,
Yet I have seen it for myself,
There goes a flower giving birth,
I hope his baby is in good health.

Old lady, what do you plead,
Your skirt hangs around your knees.
You’re the only one who can lead,
A convention just like these.

Take me higher than a bird,
This place is not for me.
I speak in hushed voices for the word,
I wish to God I were free.

Don’t drown in doubt,
We need to be paying attention now.
I know you can go without,
Another forbidden show.

The Corridor

The corridor was brown and thin,
This was the mess I was in-
Taken by so many glares,
My foot hit the stairs.

The dark was in the dark,
I could barely see-
My lighter lit a single spark,
And it was in front of me.

Take me outside, where it was warm,
The sun is like a hearth.
I have seen through the storm,
I have seen a mother give birth.

Tell me words that are spoken,
The bird has been flying east-
The vase I have broken,
The work was not my best.

The Eyes, Stares

The eye stares at me from a great abyss.

It is neither thin nor glowing.
In time, the eye will stop staring, but for now it is staring-straight at me.

The strange shadows of oneness have come back.  There is nothing that I lack.
Take me outside, and bring yourself into myself like a bitter rose rising from

The ashes.  I am rising.  I find myself glaring back at people.  I don’t like people

As much as animals.  Animals are properly trained-humans are not.  I have begun

My training in the springtime-there’s nothing else for me to do.  I am learning kung fu.

Japan is the place where I have made my home.  I love their food, their music,
And their dance.

What can I show you that won’t make you bothered by me?  What can I show you that will
Bend myself backwards outside of war?  I have helped myself by becoming something other
Than myself, I have become someone else’s property.  There is a sign in my yard, saying
For Smalls.”  I would, but I can’t.  It’s dinnertime anad I’m hungry.  Make me dinner.

Night comes, and I am sleepy.  People target me.  The hole keeps getting bigger, and bigger.
Light flashes in my vision.  I try to sleep.  Sleep will not come.  Help me dream.
In the morning, I take a ride on the train and return back home.

Bleed Me Dry

In London, I found myself huddled in the rain, wishing I were somewhere else-
A dog barks in someone’s yard, and I looked at him, all wide-eyed and wondering.
The cold spread through my body.  My coat was soaked wet,
My hair was matted.

I didn’t know where my home was, or where I was going.  The war had been going on for hours,
And the bitter cold left me shivering-in fear or coldness, I wonder if it’s both.  Time will tell.

Yes, time.  I have learned about time as a little child, sitting on my grandfather’s lap.  He said
I shouldn’t be there, I should be with my family in this time of war-time is a funny thing,
All numbers and circles.  Yes.  Time is hidden inside of me, like a small bird trying to break free.
I don’t understand this parable.  I don’t understand anything unless it is told by my grandfather,
I am but a child, trying to break free.  I never knew anything about metaphors,
I never knew anything about no words.

Sometimes the spectacles of life frighten me like a forbidden object trapped in the sand.  The sand of time.
There’s time again, I can’t find time anymore.  It washed away in the ocean, where the sharks are,
Sharks I am afraid of, just like time and all other things.  Where do I belong?  I don’t know, it hurts
To think about it.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  It’s nothing to fear.  I am poor.  The poorness continues
To bleed me dry.  I am going to find a warm place.