Chiang Mai Run (day 2464)

Here I was, settled Chiang Mai
Moat circles and rotee midnights
Two wheels of 4 speed steel
And Seven Pounds for a beer
As Chang takes the stage
For a little place of my heart
As we burn one down.

Nakinee and who we are
Wat Umong steps to sacred earth
For who we are is who we are
We state our place and live our earth
Unending ouroboros in rebirth
Mounting Wat Pha Lat daybreak hike
Take my hand and let the sun
Mae Sa waterfall forever run

Whenever time ceases to tock
Left turn down a dusty road
Find ol’ Tanin Market stalls
Warorot for new shoes
And by nightfall make sure to be
At the sauna for a steam
For if you do the walking street
You’ll run right out of things to buy
Coconut and metal chang
Iron bell and another tee.

And in the morn you’ll know I’ll be
At Jikko for an espresso pulled
Through Akha Ama finely ground
Strumming out a song I know
With some friends who sing along
Starting off the day with fun
Khao Pad J for a quick lunch
Thus a day begins again.

Turning Outlaw Again (day 1825)

I’m turning outlaw again,
My stinging words will pierce thy soul
And my fists will bleed my wicked ways,
I’ll drink my beer warmer then
My women have ever been.
I’m turning down the next dusty road
Handing over my soft spoken ways
For rowdy bars and snake tattoos
I’ll start to hiss with the devils drink.
I’m turning outlaw again,
My gang will be 20 strong
On an open road,
Our clubhouse filled with naked women
Who have signed their posters on the walls.
Saw toothed barbed wire
Will be our backup guard dog
And strapped in a leather sheath to my hip
Will be the deadliest blade known to man.
I’ll shoot my shotgun out the back door
At empty beer cans from the night before,
And all my cigarette smoke
Will lead me to toke,
Cause baby, I’m turning outlaw again.

Initials (day 1753)

Your heart laid there
Wrapped securely to an old oak tree
That had two initials carved deep.
Your heart was calm,
Reminding me of silent moments
I’d hold my breath for
Watching a little robin
Bounce about the clearing
In search of daily food.
And the midday sunlight
That lofted my thoughts
Towards an overused chair
And a cold beer to ease the pain
Of those two initials intent.

’57 Appaloosa (day 1227)

Can you control my yelling as I short my conscience to your wedding?
-Laughing with the children blowing bubbles down by the pond-
I didn’t expect to see your friend Lucifer standing there
As I convinced you to drag the fresh linens through tumbleweeds of mystery
-It is the style, I explained bitterly through my clenched teeth-
Amazed to know you fret over the cake with your eyes opened so wide
Calming the sunshine with sips of refreshments from white dixie cups
-I chewed all around the top rim of mine, unable to resist the feeling-
Your sawdust left a trail for the onlookers to follow as you trailed off into obscurity
“Madness” they muttered under their breath directing their eyes to your mother
Her hands were boiling with innocence; a fools bargain at the end of the road
-My loaded shotgun wasn’t a toy gimmick to be taken lightly, though I held it so-
Even the village authorities didn’t know what to make of it all
Trained as they were in 39 different methods to disengage a situation
A calming hustle settled over the observers
-I came prepared with my gradient tinted aviators and beer cozy-
The ’57 should-be-retired Cadillac rolled on over the loose gravel
Unnerving the guests as her tumbleweed dress sat down amongst the tears and stains
Rat piss and shit and splintered deluxe leather upholstery
Sporting a vintage look you can only get from years of missing affection
-I couldn’t help but remark on the timing of it all-
Doorless I was on my sturdy ’94 Bronco, I still had a radio good for the local DJ
But oh was I jealous of the missing hubcap on that old Cadillac
Rattling free as they sped through the streets, top always down.. it was a ’57 after all
We all knew they were notorious for having glitchy automatic tops
Plus, the rust on that thing was shining so bright in that heathen sun
-I turned to the wild thing next to me, nearly popping out of her mid-twenties figure dress-
“Say Cindy-Lou, I’ve gotta cooler full-a-beer, two lawn chairs an’a good-ol-radio
Wanna grab my shotgun an’head on up to the ol’ mine and shoot the breeze?”
-I could see it in her eyes it wasn’t the beer she was after-
Her nose rings and solid gold spacers told me she liked firing shotguns
Wild women always had a soft spot in my heart
Their unnerving contradictions always dropped my caution to the wind
But I rolled out of there with my spirits singing about Friday nights
2 good speakers in the ol’ Bronco: front right and rear left
-I wasn’t spitting sin, I was just riding on the gin waves of the 1230 nuptialities-
So we left those 76 long jaw’d and sweating visitors at those old rodeo grounds
The automatic shifter kicked a bit as it shifted into third
But the dust wasn’t settled from the ’57 Appaloosa
Rattling down the never happier road to short lived elation
We turned right when they turned left
We headed higher as they got down; after all it was honeymoon season
In the land of Friday nights and worn out shotguns

Collar (day 844)

Loosening my collar as I walk up to the spotlight
Hushed vibrations filter through my being
I take a slow breath and look around at expecting faces
Their nervous teeth chattering back at me
Catching my gaze one by one like capital letters
Each their own little religious Icon in my speechless air
Hanging as if suspended in Grandma’s hallway

Forgiveness setting me free while I exhale my contempt
That piece of me that eats away at my conscience
Making me the miscarriage, the flaw

Do you know where I came from today?

I shiver at the thought that even just one of you
Had watched me as I sat shaking in the back corner
Down in dusty nether regions of Carrall and Hastings
My glance glittering like mother’s shiny silverware
My coffee sitting idle: half full – I’m an optimist
Huddled over pages of pages I’ve worked hard at keeping un-wrinkled
Unsuccessfully
Glancing over words that mean little to me now
Figuring every vowel is missing diaeresis
And scribbling on napkins to avoid appearing unorganized
As I spill out my verbatim…

Loosening my collar

Unbuttoning my top button and juggling the microphone
Sinking into a low growl that catches their attention
Chocolatey smooth I say, a lover’s dream
A paradise of low frequencies that shift tailbones
Reckoning based on incalculable numbers

Train station brown brick and mortar stares back at me
From behind the crucifixions waiting nervously
For a brief moment dust settles
Literally, the sun-lit dust beams get lost
In a sea of hovering beer mugs and uneven chairs

Don’t worry. Don’t get nervous sitting there
Reading between the lines and expecting fears
This isn’t a bad ending to a dull day
This is just a well mannered man dressed to satisfy
Piqued desires of the elegant class one starched collar at a time
Unfolded liner notes with immaculate white spaces
This is a jaunt down Water Street with a Hastings attitude
This is a spitting collar loosened

Forever After (day 711)

Silent wishes drift upon my heart
Lifting the spirits of unnamed maidens
Cooling the late evenings breeze
To just about long pant weather
My mind washes over the condensatingly
Fresh glass of beer
While the sun drifts lazily behind the horizon
Like the wandering bumblebee
Long shadows form, reaching out in desperation
Away from the dying sun
Projecting from the adjoint plane
Between the erect tree and well watered grass
And I drift lazily off into dreams of the future
Following love forever after

Memory Smells (day 541)

There’s a certain smell that works
That lingers around indefinitely
Feeling of home: thoughts, memories
It’s nice to be back

Things like this hit you first
Usually when the door opens
Friends used to say mothers cooking
Was the best thing about my house

The old work truck, shiny and blue
Still works. It’s a service truck now
Hauling around gas for the big guys
It’s got that western smell of leather

No matter how much I’d wash
All those shoulder pads and socks
My hockey gear would always end up
With that sweet smell of victory

When I crack a beer, one of my fathers beers
And a little white mist rises out
Only with the glass bottles do I remember
Stealing dad’s beers late at night

But of all my memory smells wafting around
I remember one that’s never returned
When I’d learn guitar in a tiny room
E – A – D – G – B – E ~strum