Monday, August 13, 2007


Give away a bag of apples – one places on lover’s head, shoots & misses. One watches falling thru air, discovers gravity. One studies, sculpts & bronzes. One plants in the ground. One makes a pie, another applesauce.
Death refuses me. Repeatedly ignores requests to let my heart breathe & then I think of others. The ones broken. Ignored. Left behind. I thought my wounds were sealing. Today, listening to Bob Marley & watching Evan walk across the floor to greet me. His brother. A friend or lover. I sobbed. I cry now. I have no concern of what others think. My tears are simply lost right now. They fall without regard. Without thought. Heart so broken it sleeps. & then I think of Noah, Colette, Anna, Amanda, Emily, Tim, Jimmy, Julie, James, Jason, Miggs, Mike, Johnny, Danimal, my Kelly…the list never ends.
The Silence. The Hurt. The incomprehensible. The end. So I sit & pray & write. No pity. It must be like at the beginning of time when the sun set & all thought that was that. It’s all over. I understand death. It’s life that confuses me. “We’ve got to fulfill the Book”.

My money got screwed up. I had to pay for the books to be sent back to Kelly so I’m negative $19. Stacy just sent $25 so between the 25% deduction & screw ups with the mail, I’m going crazy. Anywho, my buddy, Rick, is fronting me enough stamps to cover my debts & then some. It’s hard to complain. Keep your eyes on the ball.

Sometimes you’re gifted with a true moron in here. Own nickname…a story that’s never backed up & an attitude of pure hype. You say a silent prayer. Know it’s only seconds before they hang with the cops. Another snitch. That’s why connects with a solid guy is more important that a box of Little Debbies. So I say a huge thank you for dudes like Frankenstein & Rick. Let time drift. Shadows build like sand. Our voices, symphonies. We are your children – your parents – your brothers – your friends – your lovers.



McCoy goes, “You want to stay out of prison? Avoid women, drugs & alchohol”. McCoy sounds just like Henry Fonda, exactly. So this afternoon I get a letter from Reed. An amazing song writer musician, brother & crazier traveler – “Avoided”. Shocked the hell out of me cuz I’m stranded in Mexico, right?
Well, a supportive letter with solid of brotherhood. Life on an edge. He’s going on tour right after he wrote me. Will be back in a few weeks. What can I say about Reed? Well, he’s fiercely independent as Thoreau. Talks about the man who walks to a different drummer. Reed walks to a different drum & the woman is a gorgeous Earth Mama.
(When) & he does often, address you, it’s with love. There’s no question. A voice that resembles Morrison on a diet of whiskey & crime. The most amazing is that it all flows as if up from the woods. Emerges. The beast named poet. Reed is great. His letter cleansed my mind. Unburdened the trash I drag along.
McCoy, Slim & I walked the yard in a WPA type stroll trying to get to the general store to grab our chew & quart of moonshine. Fuck Hollywood. I walk with the men who got the timber of Henry Fonda & understanding of humanity like John Barrymore.
I’m so out of here.
A big Later…………………………….

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