still he saws at the legs of his Steinway old habits only die hard so he tickles the ivory cigarette hanging from his lips

a man must find his way to live in the world a poet must find his way to let the world live

the songs that have been played as it’s neck was tickled and it’s belly was rubbed those at the pawn shop have nightm… of too much Beatles

it is not often that i think of peace or of the soldier i believe war is inevitable

what I love about this country is the jazz and the blues and

visceral were the nights we stood… each of us armed with an instrumen… and hearts that beat like tempos we put on a show but we weren’t put-ons

time is one my side but what time is it? is it Killing Time?

at odds with the sky I have rid myself of every feather and with my beak i have chewed off… of my wings if i am to see my dreams die

on a night back in 1998 at the 24 hour Happy Chef diner in Fort Dodge, Iowa when both of us were drunk and stoned

Life is a series of tragedies with… But what is good for those who suf… than what is good for those who do… —for Brian Salvador Curley

i have been trying to eat the moon the sun is too spicy and i do prefer a late dinner but the people i eat with are insa… and they vomit the stars

streets become narrow and sidewalks vanish layers are important heavy socks and the right pair of boots

voices spread through the room like butterflies or wildfires inspiring some to try a new way of thinking

tire takes the pirate seeking lost treasures of sleep sails into goodnight