So Many Roads, So Many Trains

So many roads, so many trains to ride
So many roads, so many trains to ride
I've got to find my baby, 'fore I'll be satisfied

I was standin' by my window, when I heard that whistle blow
I was standin' by my window, when I heard that whistle blow
You know I thought it was a Streamline... but it was a B & O

It was a mean ol' fireman and a cruel ol' engineer
It was a mean ol' fireman and a cruel ol' engineer
That took away my baby and left me standin' here

- Otis Rush

Into twilight.

Sixth Column

the world dissolving
at dawn
a misty silence
creeping up from
the riverbank
and rifles
being counted on
both sides

in the shadow of the vulture
gathering
for the winter
a hyena cackles
loudly at the edge
of the woods
while old guns die
silent in the moss

I am curious
but guess what?

It was all my fault

Into twilight.

Mists of solitude

Impossible, I realize, to enter another’s solitude. If it is true that we can ever come to know another human being, even to a small degree, it is only to the extent that he is willing to make himself known. A man will say: I am cold. Or else he will say nothing, and we will see him shivering. Either way, we will know that he is cold. But what of the man who says nothing and does not shiver? Where all is intractable, where all is hermetic and evasive, one can do no more than observe. But whether one can make sense of what he observes is another matter entirely.
I do not want to presume anything.
(…)
The important thing is this: I realized that even if I had done all the things I had hoped to do, his reaction would have been exactly the same. Whether I succeeded or failed did not essentially matter to him. I was not defined for him by anything that I did, but by what I was, and this meant that his perception of me would never change, that we were fixed in an unmoveable relationship, cut off from each other on opposite sides of a wall. Even more than that, I realized that none of this had anything to do with me. It had only to do with him. Like everything else in his life, he saw me only through the mists of his solitude, as if at several removes from himself. The world was a distant place for him, I think, a place he was never truly able to enter, and out there in the distance, among all the shadows that flitted past him, I was born, became his son, and grew up, as if I were just one more shadow, appearing and disappearing in a half-lit realm of his consciousness.

- Paul Auster

Into starlight.

Oh, Golgotha

mercy

everyone
searches for a
cross
bigger than the
neighbour's

Into twilight.

Master Misery

Squinting one eye, Oreilly poured himself another drink; the clownlike twist of his mouth hardened into a line of scholarly straightness. “That is a million-dollar question, kid. Why don’t you ask something easy, like how to cure the common cold? Yes, kid, what does it mean? I have thought about it a good deal. I have thought about it in the process of making love to a woman, and I have thought about it in the middle of a poker game.” He tossed the drink down his throat and shuddered. “Now a sound can start a dream; the noise of one car passing in the night can drop a hundred sleepers into the deep parts of themselves. It’s funny to think of that one car racing through the dark, trailing so many dreams. Sex, a sudden change of light, a pickle, these are little keys that can open up our insides, too. But most dreams begin because there are furies inside of us that blow open all the doors. I don’t believe in Jesus Christ, but I do believe in people’s souls; and I figure it this way, baby: dreams are the mind of the soul and the secret truth about us. Now Master Misery, maybe he hasn’t got a soul, so bit by bit he borrows yours, steals it like he would steal your dolls or the chicken wing off your plate. Hundreds of souls have passed through him and gone into a filing case.”

- Truman Capote

Into starlight.

Rain

breathing wondering quietly awaiting the big storm and the lustful rain trembling and once the pain was gone nothing left to roam there are voices in the hall you say and no one to listen and so we STOP wait and listen again and always thinking of the rain wishing waiting wavering the rain the damned rain and who’s to fall but you I hear buzzing in the halls behind the walls and everyone sleepwalks to and fro there’s a shadow in the ocean you say again I think of the rain and shudder but lightly no more than that oh well the rain I suppose

Into starllight.

Many rivers to cross

Many rivers to cross
But I can't seem to find my way over
Wandering I am lost
As I travel along the white cliffs of Dover

Many rivers to cross
And it's only my will that keeps me alive
I've been licked, washed up for years
And I merely survive because of my pride

And this loneliness won't leave me alone
It's such a drag to be on your own
My woman left me and she didn't say why
Well, I guess I'll have to cry

Many rivers to cross
But just where to begin I'm playing for time
There have been times I find myself
Thinking of committing some dreadful crime

Yes, I've got many rivers to cross
But I can't seem to find my way over
Wandering, I am lost
As I travel along the white cliffs of Dover

Yes, I've got many rivers to cross
And I merely survive because of my will...

- Jimmy Cliff

Into starlight.

Vanitas

sedated white noise and voices voices voices talking with so little to say talking jackpots selling what they don’t have bargaining free for all is it? I’m amazed at the crawling single file of wankers a parade a charade a masquerade and words words words oh my raining down on the hungry mob thankful worshipping I am constantly consistently amazed and still I wonder what else is there to come wrapped in rubber tainted pink or whatever the iron gaze flickers interspersed with kind words and always an excuse reeking of coffee cigarettes and bullshit fronting realms of nothing look around listen and tell me is it me?

Into twilight.

Right out of your hand

Please forgive me
If I appear unkind
But any fool can tell you
It's all in your mind

Down in the meadow
The old lion stirs
Puts his hand 'cross his mouth
He has no use for words

Poor little girl
With your handful of snow
Poor little girl
Had no way to know

And you've got me eating
You've got me eating
You've got me eating
Right out of your hand

I mean you no harm
When I tell you you're blind
Give a sucker an even break
He'll lose it all, every time

The airborne starlings circle
Over the frozen fields
The hollyhocks hang harmlessly
And the old lion yields

And you've got me eating
You've got me eating
You've got me eating
Right out of your hand

- Nick Cave

Into starlight.

Sleepless Eyes

for eyes like
yours

honey at sundown
emeralds
trapped in
amber

for gold
spiralling round
your face
resting sweetly
on your
shoulders

for eyes like
yours
and no other
gently staring and
soothing
over stars
and
scars

Into starlight.

Lucky Town

House got too crowded clothes got too tight
And I don't know just where I'm going tonight
Out where the sky's been cleared by a good hard rain
There's somebody callin' my secret name

I'm going down to Lucky Town
Going down to Lucky Town
I wanna lose these blues I've found
Down in Lucky Town
Down in Lucky Town

Had a coat of fine leather and snakeskin boots
But that coat always had a thread hangin' loose
Well I pulled it one night and to my surprise
It led me right past your house and on over the rise

I'm going down to Lucky Town
Down to Lucky Town
I'm gonna lose these blues I've found
Down in Lucky Town
Down in Lucky Town

I had some victory that was just failure in deceit
Now the joke's comin' up through the soles of my feet
I been a long time walking on fortune's cane
Tonight I'm steppin' lightly and feelin' no pain

Well here's to your good looks baby now here's to my health
Here's to the loaded places that we take ourselves
When it comes to luck we make our own
Tonight I got dirt on my hands but I'm building me a new home

Down in Lucky Town
Down in Lucky Town
I'm gonna lose these blues I've found

- Bruce Springsteen

Into twilight.

Have yourselves...

...a merry little Christmas.

Into twilight.

Take This Waltz

Now in Vienna there's ten pretty women
There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows
There's a tree where the doves go to die
There's a piece that was torn from the morning
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws

Oh I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lily
In some hallways where love's never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging its tail in the sea

There's a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They've been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz it's been dying for years

There's an attic where children are playing
Where I've got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow
All your sheep and your lilies of snow
Ay, Ay, Ay, AyTake this waltz, take this waltz
With its "I'll never forget you, you know!"

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz ...

And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder,
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, Oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is.

- Leonard Cohen

Into twilight.

Mining for gold

can you draw
a man
a map of his
dreams?

wiping out
the shadows and
the rain?

can you show
a man
the shape of his
dreams?

the colour and
shape?
the inner linings?

can you trim
and weight
those dreams
or pull them from
a gospel?

can you take
a man
to his dreams
by hand?

Into twilight.

Quand elle rit aux éclats

Elle se déhanche, s’avance, se penche
Rousse, provocante, elle te mate, elle te vampe
Toi, tu sais déjà, qu’il n’y aura plus qu’elle
Son corps, sa voix qui t’ensorcellent
Tu ne vois pas qu’elle t’épie, qu’elle te guette
Quand, avec d’autres, elle rit aux éclats

Fatale, elle se pâme, t’alarme, te désarme
S’appuie sur ton épaule, s’accroche à tes paroles
Toi, tu crois déjà qu’elle chancelle et chavire
Quand, alanguie, elle frémit et soupire
Tu n’est comprends pas qu’elle est
de celles qui charment
Avec leur corps et sans leur âme

Elle se déhanche, s’avance, se penche
Frivole, elle papillonne,
se pose et puis s’envole
Toi, tu sens déjà ton coeur qui se lézarde
Tu donnerais tout pour qu’elle s’attarde
Tu n’imagines pas q’elle l’épie,
qu’elle le guette
Quand, avec toi, elle rit aux éclats

Tu ne vois pas le piège
qui fera voler ton coeur en éclats

- D. Klein / B. Lauzin

Into twilight.

Everyday

every day
you feel it slipping
away
slowly
sadly
silently

every day
you wake up with
a little less hair
confidence
and life
as continental drift
takes you
one step closer
to Vegas
even while you’re
having a shit

every day
the ocean rises a little
and still can’t drown
the swarming
scum above and
every day
some fireball blazes
across space
a few thousand miles closer
to your mirror
and matching
shoes & belt
but not enough to scare
the few thousand
that have starved
in the meantime

every day
in every way
and just like you
I wake up
a little bit less
compassionate

Into starlight.

Burning bright

in essence, the generally accepted poetry today has a kind of glass outside to it, slick and sliding, and sunned down inside there is a joining of word to word in a rather metallic inhuman summation or semi-secret angle, this is a poetry for millionaires and fat men of leisure so it does get backing and it does survive because the secret is in that those who belong really belong and to hell with the rest, but the poetry is dull, very dull, so dull that the dullness is taken for hidden meaning - the meaning is hidden, all right, so well hidden that there isn't any meaning, but if YOU can't find it, you lack soul, sensitivity and so forth, so you BETTER FIND IT OR YOU DON'T BELONG. and if you don't find it, KEEP QUIET.

- Charles Bukowski

Into starlight.

Daydream

and these are my
hands
that falter and waver
in the wind

they are
slaves to my
eyes
that feel
a bit too much
maybe

but they're
more real
than your words

look me in the eyes

Into starlight.

The Carnival

Whereas the man who hits
the gong dis-
proves it,
in all its
simplicity --

Even so the attempt
makes for triumph, in
another man.

Likewise in love I
am not foolish or in
-competent. My method is not a

tenderness, but hope
defined.

- Robert Creeley

Into starlight.

Settling the dust

restless was the
wondering
& the sullen contemplation
of commotion
drowning the
days

restless was the
mind
tainted & torn
adrift in the
grey(ish)
seas
searching for a
harbour
without its
anchor

placid is
redemption
- unannounced
unplanned
mysterious
& unexpectedly
merciful -
that settles the dust
at dawn

a lonesome night
has died
in grief
whipped by the
autumn winds
& in the
pale
hour of dawn
your hands
shiver at
the touch of
glistening wings

eyes down
& then
gradually
towards the
sun

Into starlight.