Sliding Glass

The throngs of bacteria

churn inside me.

My blood smells like metal.

I walked past large work benches

that have been scoured, ground down

and sanded to the gleaming fragments of their core.

"I can't get no satisfaction" plays over again

as I work the bass line

in my mind.

Your trickery and lament dispel the rumor mongers

that hold court

amongst The Rolling Stones.

Morrison's Ghost

The long night howling

From the window outside

pressing the issue at hand dear

the answer for you to hear,

Lost in the night for I can't find the road,

wandered too far from town

left the tavern alone,

went hunting down the green rolling

grass of the hills

and sought the ghosts of the past.

When you answer the night calling

lest you don't forget your way

more often than not you'll find

your lover won't stay.

Mystery will find you

but make no mistake

the green hillsides

are no saving grace.

The long night howling

from the window outside

pressing a hand dear

for you to hear.