Figured It Out… Now Off To Arizona

I’ve spent 32 years trying to figure it out and what I’ve come up with is that either you’re going to change the world, or the world is going to change you. I used to think that I was going to save humanity with my words but now I realize that what we need are more trees and flowers and fresh water lakes and so I plant my poems in the ground and water them with loving kindness.

Keep breathing me in while I stand around and spit you out…

The bus blew by its stop and I heard the man waiting there yell out after it. I saw the moon rise all silvery crescent in the Eastern sky but didn’t stop to paint a picture. A song played that reminded me of you but I couldn’t remember why.

All we have to count on in the end are our dreams and the lint in our pockets. (Spoken from the stolen spool these thoughts wound around) When I was 26 I knew much more about the mechanics of my heart – at least I thought I did – now I’d gladly trade a well-cooked piece of salmon and easy chatter for a night of bed spring bounce. If I was 26 again I’d put a letter in my pocket with the words Don’t Read Until You’re 33 on it so that next month I’d have something to open on my birthday. When I unfold it I’ll read the words, “I have nothing to tell you.”

Keep listening to my singing while I turn off the amp…

Nicknames are conceived while we’re talking story. Your eyelash fell on your cheek and with a soft puff of my lungs I lifted it into the air and you made a wish. Kitchen tiles reveal just what food was thrown when you told me your heart is a train and it needs to roam. A gust of wind came in through the door and shuffled the pages to my script so now the End is the Beginning and the hero doesn’t know which way to go. I thought they were fireflies but maybe the jar is just on fire.

There’s a place in the city where homeless sleep on cushions of cash and poets are served meals of Kobe beef and 200 year-old cheddar sprinkled over broccoli florets. There’s no map to get there so I just close my eyes and lunge through the dark, arms flailing, groping through the bars, record shops, and taco stands. When I get there they tell me I’m no poet and throw in my lap a three day-old meatball sandwich.

Keep praying to the Gods of Cunning and Chance while I steal your limericks, riddles, and four leaf clovers…

I’m back on the road tomorrow… to Arizona, and a town I’ve never heard of until I found it on a map and decided to go, Bisbee: a town that’s old and empty and filled with miners and hippies. It’s the thrill of discovering something new that puts fuel in my car and a playlist on my Ipod and my hands gripping the wheel for nine hours. I’m going to stop at Denny’s and get a free Grand Slam Breakfast, maybe near the Salton Sea. Why not? I say. California’s largest lake formed when the Colorado River breached its banks. They say it’s so polluted that fish line its shore and you can smell the death in the air a mile away. A lake so toxic it glows at night.

Sounds like Hollywood…

This is the theme music for the trip for those of you curious about those kind of things…


Now be good and be gone!


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