Love at a Reasonable Price

I got the love,
but nowhere to put it.
I got the fire,
but it’s burning my floorboard out–
like the 67 Chevy long road sedan.
Dad fixed an old license plate
with wire
to patch the hole by the accelerator.

I got the spirit,
but not the space to unfold it.
I got the heart,
but not the strength
to show
share
live it on out.

I’m the burned out boy of the barrio.
Will I, mussed strand hair,
restaurant greased slacks,
fall by the wayside,
unrequested
opening Mickey D doors
unasked
pointing out directions
unheard
accepting tips.

I’m the burned out boy of the barrio.
Will I, fingers gray dirt caked,
sweatshirt and jeans worn and powdered,
work for the man,
drink with the boys,
come home to the bitch,
or to the woman–
come home to the fight,
or to the peace–
who am I now?
Burned out boy of the barrio.

Us losers,
we become our retreats.
Us failures,
we become our faces.
Burnt out,
left behind,
a never mind–
but that’s not the end.
Measure me
by the size
of my love
and the shape
of my life.

Disappointment in the family den,
called-out loudmouth,
caught-out daredevil–
OK, fine,
with the lines wearing through
and the mojo fizzing gone.
OK, fine,
But what’re you gonna do about it,
that’s what I’d like to know.

There’s still the walk
along the dock,
still the ships swaying
in the cupping waves,
still the ones who
hear what I say
see what I do
know where I stand.

Burned out boy of the barrio,
but that’s not the issue now.
Will my face crease
smile or frown
squished or open eyes
open or closed?

A man longs for his woman.
Let him forget the wishes
that don’t mean much.
Let him find the path
the place
the people
the person
that help him.
Help him, God around,
find his
keep on keep’in on.

AMW/BW

Look, Lady
Formed by responding in-line to the first part of Blow, Bugle Blow

Her hair rich dark choc’late thick,
Her snowy summits coolly yearning,
She long looks wide the countryside
To spot straw lad of red cheeks burning.

Burst beauty, burst, set the green fields falling,
Stop beauty; answer; a free day fair day calling.

O hark, O hear, yet far yet near,
Inside, outside; all in all whirling!
Ah hope-swept glance, ah self-caught prance.
The slippered lady mirth-lipped looking!

Look, swoop a breathe–the fresh hearts leaping
Reach, lady; answer, your bright eyes keeping.

AW/BW

Blow, Bugle Blow
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The splendour falls on castle walls
Her hair rich like choc’late’s thick,
And snowy summits old in story :
Her snowy summits coolly yearning,
The long light shakes across the lakes,
She long looks wide the countryside
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
To spot straw lad of red cheeks burning.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Burst beauty, burst, set the green fields falling,
Stop beauty ; answer, it’s calling, calling, calling.

O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear,
O hark, O hear, yet far yet near,
And thinner, clearer, farther going !
Inside, outside, all in all whirling!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
Ah hope-swept glance, ah self-caught prance.
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing !
The slippered lady mirth-lipped looking!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying :

Look, let it breathe, the fresh hearts leaping
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

Reach, lady; answer, your brights keeping, keeping, keeping.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river :
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

Just so you know:
Race is a social construct.
That’s all.
Emotionally/Mentally, it isn’t anything–
we all slide together there, in the loci of our,
you know, humanity.
Can’t be helped.
That’s all.
Nothing to see here.
Oh well.
All those theories; all that research; all that yearning searching:
oh well,
it’s better this way–
the way it actually is.

AMW / BW

It overtakes your shoulders, pulls you into the center like a twinkle-spin-out-disappearing blackhole. Alone, walking on the beach. Unable to love, unable to stand life. Start out young; the heart is what really ages, as it grows stiff–cynical, beaten, unwilling to shake off the scar tissue and try again–it turns the rest of you to dust, like a plant on dried out ground.

Or is that just pouty talk?

Sigh no more, monster, sigh no more,
we’ve lodged the turning pike;
through horny skull and with twisting gore
Into a dark dropped psyche.
Then sigh not so,
but let it go,
as in your jagged jawing
your victims changed their sounds of woe
into shhh I surely go.

Flail your tentacles no more
at man and beast and fairy;
But make your way to nature’s shore,
where monsters shed their scaly
fiercesome monster hides.

Then sigh not so,
But let this go,
And be you cool and empty,
forgetting all these sounds of woe
with a shhh I surely go.

AMW / BW

Shakespeare’s “Sigh no more, Ladies” from “Much Ado About Nothing”

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

I cannot bear the things I’ born.
I will not share the worlds I’ shorn

Of all their giddy shining charms
while lopping off long suckered arms.

Those monsters of deep dark sea
that circle ships and prey on we

rugged sailors with open shirts
salt spray eyes and laughoff hearts.

Ladies men hero men shipped from afar
who lean on rails with windsplit hair
and tumble to the bars

To tell our tales and drink our ales
to toast the king toast his land
and toast the creatures hand
that almost did but couldn’t quite
choke us till the blackest night
filled our minds and took our souls
to wherever silence flows.

AMW / BW

She’s been giving me jaw,
saying why don’t you marry
someone

Getting old age
ain’t helping your looks
and there’s no one
to call your own.

Swing me back around,
you know the way
to my heart,
a sneaky tickle
where the monsters
start
too cold and much
too lean.

I’m bad and you’re
you’re the worst
one yet.
Who will save you now?
Who will push you back up
now that the smash
has settled and the dust
floats so still and calm
about to drift down
to the sagey seafloor.

I can’t do this alone.
And other silly refrains
you toss off to show
you’ve got a spot
and you’re staying strong
and expanding well.

AMW / BW

He came along
in a cowboy hat
and a boyful grin,
swaying a little clunky
on Solid Gold
cause it was never
really his scene.

Looking a little distant
on album covers
in flight jackets
with cigarettes
that laugh along
with the changing times.

Another one come
and gone
another one
about the wheel
within the clay
and that
James Dean
wasn’t really
James Dean
that is what he means to say.

Some kind of love,
and can you hear
me whoever you are,
you are the nation
and you will go on.

Putting together the pieces,
building up a life,
spinning a life,
telling a life,
changing well,
getting wider
deeper
in the light.

A friend
because he spoke kindly
and fully
within the shapes
you could correspond to
and hear out.

BW /AMW

Heading home
where I come from
where I can go
when I’m lonely.

Rowing the swoop
prow rowboats
out to the
rustling shipside

Going home
to find my time
and hold my friend
within the bounds
of the common stand

I’ll blast my carriage
and loose my wheels
to find someway
back

BW / AMW

Think about it,
there must be a higher love.
All along it watches and turns,
twisting the reeds
flipping the leaves.

Must be a realer light
taking us beyond these
our edges that keep
the bottles shut up tight.

Must be a deeper way
where our feet will fall
just right.

BW / AMW