Song of the Narcisisst

Today I masturbated to a rose
To a bird
To a tree
They're all me
I am William Blake
I am William Wordsworth
I am Will.I.Am.
I am what I am
against my best efforts
to be something else

Do we even remember who they are?
They're birds
Writing is healing
My voice is the company I find
in a time when everyone else
is distracted by themselves
Am I learning? Am I growing
in this little garden of lines?

Don't leave little bird
You're a Mockingbird
I found you in my book
"Mockingbirds will attack their reflection
in a window, a hubcap, or mirror,
with such vigor that they
injure or kill themselves"
That doesn't sound like me
I prefer my reflection
It's the only thing I'm sure
will be there when I turn to it

Death Valley Rose: A Country Song

I was walking ‘crossed the desert,
I was west-coast bound.
The sun was stealing the rain
‘fore it hit the ground.
There were bones in the dust
where the others had died.
I didn’t have a drop to sweat,
didn’t have a tear to cry.
That’s where I first saw her
out where nothing can grow,
The only woman I ever loved,
My Death Valley rose.

She was prim and she was poised
without a thick skin.
Not a thorn or a glass
to protect her from the wind.
If you bottled up her smell
you could sell it in Paris, France.
A lotta men gave their lives
going after her romance.
How she grew out there
nobody knows.
She’s a mirage, she’s a miracle,
My Death Valley rose.

Scrub and brush
Rock and dust
Nothing could stop her
from coming up
Skull and Bone
Blood and stone
Nothing could stop me
from making her my own

There’s lots of coyotes and cactii
baking in the sun.
As far as roses are concerned
I only know of one.
She took me to her house
and fed me from her well.
I never thought I’d find the road
to paradise in Hell.
I asked her to come with me
out to the coast.
I’m living by the ocean now
with my Death Valley Rose

The Well of Dreams

I wanna hold your body close
When you go to sleep
When your soul goes off
to the well of dreams

I’ll take you in my hands
Let you down slow
To that darkened place
Where the wishes echo

Don’t get scared
if you start to fall
The water’s rising
It’s gonna take us all.

The well of dreams is swelling up
It’s rising fast it can’t be stopped

It’s not bringing danger
It’s not bringing death
It’s bringing new life
It’s breathing new breath

It’s washing the dirt
It’s absolving the sins
It’s feeding the earth
It’s cooling the winds

Close your eyes
Till you fall asleep
Come with me
to the well of dreams

The well of dreams is swelling up
It’s swelling fast, run and get your cup

Lola (She's Putting on Her Eyeliner)

She’s got black wine bangs and rainstorm eyes
And a bouquet blooming from her breast
If you see her in the window she’ll turn off the light
Just to rob you of her silhouette

She holds hands with her shadow when the sun is out
Says that it’s her only friend
She doesn’t trust the candles in the jack-o-lantern's mouths
But she dances in their blazing grins

She’s putting on her eyeliner
I’m watching in the mirror
From the edge of her bathtub
Her cheeks are black and smeared

BRIDGE
I remember her walking
Nearly 20 blocks when
She went home sulking
In the snow


Lola
She tapped me on the shoulder
Lola
She kissed me on the cheek
Lola
We had an understanding
Lola
That this was meant to be

She tells me she doesn’t know how to live
Never learned to push and shove
She takes all the pity that I’ve got to give
But she won’t let me pawn off my love

BRIDGE

Lola
She’s putting on her eyeliner
Lola
She’s looking at herself
Lola
In the bathroom mirror
Lola
And nobody else

She told me that she don’t remember how to cry
Or the last time that she wanted kissed
She told me she’s too beautiful for suicide
Then let me trace her burning wrists

Lola
She’s putting on her eyeliner
Lola
I’m watching in the mirror
Lola
She needs a congregation
Lola
I guess that's why I'm here

These Songs

These songs have potholes
in their cheeks. These songs do not
wear capri pants. These songs
say what they can in
Japanese. These songs do not
bend like the horizon. These songs
are half-starved and delirious,
imagining cake, stomachs
bloating like the universe.
These songs are the amalgamated
pieces of every invisible
sound you’ve ever caught
with your ears, butterflies
in a net, legions fluttering
in formation.
They are not even songs.
They are the combination
to a safe holding
your own heart.