Even The Dirt

fools, fools, fools.
praying for salvation that has already come.

for peace that is forever.
for themselves.

pretend, at least.

to have hope.
to see past the mirror.
to cling to something.
or anyone.

everything is not bad.
most everything is beautiful.
even the dirt.


Pick Pockets

to dallas!  pack up honey.  call the girls and let em know.  going to a show.  down on greenville.  bob schneider is the man.  rainy and windy and cold, but we'll be in the warm theater.  the granada got the clouds on the ceiling.  early arrivals get the good seats, make my way down for a few songs later in the set.  stand and sway.  the northface hoodie is perfect.  got a pocket on the inside.  dallas is full of pick pockets.  those old thieves.  pocketknife pat has a surprise.  wake her at night and see if i've been lying.  my wife got a pocketknife oh yeahh, yeah, yeah.  the other day she was walking in a parking lot.  a dude came up to her, said give me what you got.  my wife looked him the eyes, said you want my pocketknife?  this guy didn't know what to say.  it was clear to him, he picked the wrong woman today.  hey man, what you gonna do?  mess with me, i'm gonna cut you in two.  that man, he left the scene.  shaken up by what he'd seen.  my wife, she got a pocketknife, oh yeahhhhaaaahhhhyeah...


Immigration Rotation

the laptop life.  full of mobility and words at the ready.  a flood could follow.  pecking on screens is for the brief.  to the point.  which has it's place.  but production of a fully formed idea needs keyboards and speed.  pages per day days.  strictly structured or strictly random.  needs to add up.  either or.  instant reactions and immediate stories.  like the ones about the doctors of the old days.  about the mexican workers of the forties and fifties.  one had to be sent back for every ten.  back on monday morning.  tired from the long bus ride back through the endless south texas brush.  lawman has to do his job.  round up another one the next farm over the next day.  the immigration rotation.  the farmers picked out the laziest for the bus ride.  time to think about their work ethic.  automatic motivational process.  complete with mercy and second chances.  tons and tons of cotton to pick.  fields and fields to hoe.  rows and rows of corn.  this was before the massive machines of modern farming.  before techniques became exponentially more efficient.  hands and earth days.  the good hands camped on the outer edges and smoked weed til late at night.  for days and months they worked for texas farmers.  the black dirt of the trinity region.  the mexican boss man handled the money.  during the fall harvest they planted seeds for the spring return.  on creek banks, in culverts, near the cacti.  something to relax their nights.  beer and whisky led to loud behavior.  raucous and violent.  the drunks got sent back to mexico on a bus.  the smokers looked at the stars and understood peace.  the skies huge and bright.  ahh, the laptop life.  neon green and thin.  makeup already scars the keys.  those girls!  already slept on, despite the rules.  up and running now.  words to follow.


Hang Ten

The great fundraiser.
Really works up the crowd.
Lost in the applause.
Followers follow.
And it never ends.
The convincing.
No time to work.
Busy keeping the job.
The grease keeps it smooth.
And we ooze on.
Whip up the public.
Talk about unfairness.
Boo the blue.
Align with thugs and scammers.
Keep your job.
Speak and speak and speak.
Rest your weary bones.
Off to the islands.
Jet lag is a bummer.
Hang ten.


Jillions Of Miles Away

.this thing about others.
.these weepy eyes.
.known through and through.
.like an automatic rewind.
.machines are supposed to work.
.jillions of miles away.
.between space debris.
.near the eternal state.
.talk of lightning bolts and rain.
.atmosphere gazers.
.time off the clock.
.the believing class.
.winos, sickos, and hobos.
.greasers, sleepers, and keepers.
.brains, pains, and other names.
.brats, rats, and the trapped.
.the community of always.


The Arrival Of Our Future

.wildcatters, leaning in.
.making eye contact and showing out.
.this is their time.
.wavy lashes and lips of color.
.smooth, smooth faces.
.work ethic queens.
.the arrival of our future.
.downtown talk and cash.
.local is always relevant.
.eyes half open and slurs.
.going on about gratitude.
.spitting food and giggling.
.book deals, as always.
.the expression of an artist.
.an unexpected hero.
.old and cranked.


Observations Of Absurdity

      Usually, it starts with the literal.  Reality being important to the structure of anything, tangible objects, real thoughts, observations of absurdity.  Then the tone of the sound.  The minors and sevens adding significant moods.  Letters that go together.  The words fill in parts of the completed work, but  they only compliment the song.  Some is left to the listener to describe, in their terms, in the context of their circumstances.  What is meant by the creator is less important than how it is experienced.  Boundaries are fine, each song has it's place and purpose.  Creating serves the creator, listening serves the listener.  Each uncaring of the other's motivations and inspiration.  Complete separation.  All this is evident, but many are motivated by the creator, not the creation.  The singer, not the song.  Most songs come together quickly, expressions are not lingering things.  More like flashes, wind gusts, or sudden.  Capturing a specific time and place, with what is active in the mind, body, or spirit. The performance is another matter, where articulation, space, understanding, and freedom are continuously refined.



.could only think of one thing to do...
.only had a few issues to figure out...
.regardless of time or circumstance...
.gloria is heard as one unified sound...
.avoiding the light in the shakedown...
.life defined and already determined...
.calm usually exists near distractions...


The Hall Of Fame Games

...this business about this hall of fame.  The one that cannot bring itself to induct Drew Pearson or Cliff Harris.  The one that is a hall of fame only in name, what a shame, what a shame, so lame, so lame.  These two individuals who defined football on offense and defense, especially for dallas cowboy observers.  Harris, an early balder, tough as dirt, gave more than he got, and he got plenty.  No doubt he paid the price for his induction.  Won multiple Super Bowls, played in more, was always in Hawaii for the pro bowl, accolades upon accolades.  Played 10 years for the same team as they reached the heights of success.  Pearson, the dude, the cool operator with the superafro, the slick, the sideline artist, the class and with class, the original 88.  Before Irvin, before the first Bryant, before Dez.  The Hail Mary!  Swann and Stallworth are both in.  It's disgusting.  For both players, the career numbers are entirely sufficient.  Theoretical explanations and hypothetical understandings are futile.  The pure envy involved, the absolute transparency of the situation.  Both first team all decade for the 1970s, as voted on by the hall of political games itself.  But this is not a pitch or debate, this is an expression.  There are others too.  Harvey.  Everson.  Too Tall went 7-0 as a professional heavyweight boxer!  An expression of peace, only once the turmoil is tamed.  But the expression only validates and makes conviction stronger.  There is worry about the safety Darren Woodson, who was always the best player on the field when he played.  Obvious, it was.  Perhaps the best all around special teams player of his era as well.  Was probably the emergency QB, Kicker, Punter, deep Snapper, Tight End, and MLB.  One of those players.  Of course, it is universally known and remembered.  Darren Woodson.  Mainly, the therapeutical benefit of this expression is real.  Life can continue the predictable and unpredictable.  Controllable and uncontrollable should be determined.  All emotions should be indulged in moderately.  Decisions should be decisive, after appropriate consideration.  Finally, exhibit class.  In all it's forms.  These two men, Cliff and Drew, have too much class to point out the obvious.  Other priorities have risen above the slight.  The wrong must be made right by others.  They have moved on.  The 70s was a long time ago.  Ain't that the truth.  Both went on to productive lives, quietly and content with what they, and the team, accomplished on the field.  The accolades, memories, and championships.  Plural.  It was all there.  Another thing, why does one state, Ohio, get the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the a Rock and Roll Hall of a Fame?  Tripping Daisy and the Swinging Ds will probably get screwed too.