Blues Trucho, part 1

Drunks make me scared
& teetotalers too--
brawlers & smoochers
& preachers all do!

They all make me lonely
for a dream love that's true.

I love my solitude
cos it keep me safe'n sound--
yeah, I cherish my solitude
--anyway,  ya don't come 'round

Only tease me'n abuse me
like a mad child just been found.

(note: 'trucho' is Argentino slang for 'counterfeit')


Borrowed Buckley Hopes

A fine banquet on a dream table
cobbled from the dregs of love
the dregs of life an epic fable

O voice alone of alien chanter
rock my convalescent pulse
in heartbreak canter

break & run into gallop fun
before you shrink my age
before I grow my wrongs in rage

the long-lived echo of your death
rings the fool baton in hand
fueling virtue's isolation
to dream a second breath

I shoulda stayed at the trapset
holding down my backbeat gig

I should have rooted wilder
to dig at the limit & stay pretty

I should've stuck to my guns
given fair warning to let you know

I shoulda cut out in time
gone gone gone in a blaze of glory

We listen to the dead to listen for the dying
--who calling us out to call us in?

Stories told in hiding
as we fall out from love--
built up & spun out of questions

There is only silence after an answer
bubbles up from yeasty wine, bottled shut

We listen to the dying
to catch a message
from long-dead love

We listen hard & listen limp
to labels & categories made anew

We come alive to Death Metal Folk Music:
a flaming red horizon/that screams our name

(all is nothing but borrowed time
anyway-- a beggar's love
of stolen moments)


Roces del Agua

en el corazón de la vida
que refleja su piel, el ansia expansiva
diluye la dirección privada de metas

borroso centro pinta lienzo social
en contradicción expuesta
más allá del público hacer,  silente

nadie me canta paisaje
pero el chorro afluente ahonda el cauce
y se recoge al secreto río en su nombre

(lujuria secreta entierra el deseo privado
del ahogo sereno en la desembocadura)

perdido aquí me encuentro y te requiero roces

Temple Chilton

sins of absence & the past
beat hard at the bottom
of one heart's gash

sins of clotting blame
flood the calloused hold
through one thin tear

peel my treasure chest open
to soak the dry valves
& fruitmeat swollen

my wrinkled skin still smarts
with faults of aging children