Mesilla

Hombre viejo plays a song in Mesilla
he sings out of tune and sounds drunk on time
we drink down tequila with Catrin y Catrina
all of the skeletons dance in a line

here is home
if you are here
fill the rooms
paint the walls
lock the door

lost Mesilleros sleep down the calle
perdido por siempre, we offer no tears
we learn from the nameless, the aluminum crosses
the end’s the beginning and life’s all we should fear

paint me on
above the bed
a fresco in time
watch me age
beneath your light

red wine in the daytime, La Llorona’s still screaming
viejita cansado folds flowers for the night
you sleep on the wisdom handed down like an heirloom
I wake with your passion still on my mind.

Right Here

All the fevers, all the phantoms
that keep you up at night
ask yourself, my dear, my lover
will they ever make things right?

we are too far to go back now

all my mistakes, all my cruelty
it was all stupidity
I never meant to dig up graves
in my search for reverie

we are too far to go back now

you think I’m gonna go, but I’m right here
you think I’m gonna lie, but I’m right here
you think you saw a ghost, c’mon I’m right here
you think I’m gonna run, lover I’m right here
I’m right here, I’m right here

it’s the way you hold your mouth
that keeps me up at night
and the way you say you’ll stay
that makes me think you might

we are too far to go back now.

Works in Progress . . .

“Lost + Found”

Fingers in my ears, I watch across the sea
I hold you in my mind like a rosary
I’ve been gone too long . . .
I breathed you in deep, your hair was wet
you filled me up like a cigarette
I’ve been drowning so long . . .

god crawls out when you laugh
you look like a 1920s photograph
and I’m the fool who left
but that wasn’t me
I looked in the lost and found
where I hoped you’d be
well there you were

my winter brought the blizzard I was buried in
I turned myself into the woodman made of tin
I stayed cold too long . . .
I was just afraid, you were not the same
but you’re the fear that I overcame
I know it took too long . . .

“Mesilla”

hombre viejo plays a song in Mesilla
he sings out of tune and sounds drunk on time
we drink down tequila with Catrin and Catrina
all of the skeletons dance in a line

House Of Cards

What took so long to build
came crashing in a day
like a red and black revolution
just a house of cards blown away

why, why won’t you stand up
like a prophet on a stone
why, why won’t you have patience
like a buzzard for the bones

I’m as simple as the moon
hanging red in the sky
I know sometimes I disappear
but I’ll return in different light

why, why won’t you read me
like the lines in a palm
why, why won’t you be there
like the claret cup at dawn

four walls, cheap wine
got nothin’ but time
and you know that you’re mine
so don’t act like it’s fine

even on my saddest days
I love you like a coma haze
waking up with a blurry mind
a new life in a new time

why, why won’t you feel me
like the talons on the prey
why, why did you knock down
this house of cards I made?

Narrioch

Planes out of JFK pass through the moon
I’ll use you as a pillow if you want me to
I’ll touch your sun-hot skin with my greasy hands
we’ll drink and kiss all night here in the cold, white sand

ferris wheel stopped moving when the crowds went home
I’ll keep smoking cigarettes until they burn my throat
we’ll walk out on the jetty and sing songs of woe
they will come back to us, note-for-note

a song came to me, it was sung by the sea
it sounded like whiskey on the beach
out past the graffiti and the funhouse freaks
sad old strains of a run-down destiny

lonely silhouette and a shadow in the sand
got lost looking for the promised land
ended up here at the quiet shore
retracing steps to the dawn of man

the water splashed my face
on the ferry to that place
that turned us cold
like some kind of ghost
that haunts the waterways

the sun will shine again out on Narrioch
and I will come again to reclaim my loss
like Lazarus on a kama-loka plane
I will bow my head to sweet Anteros.

Mirror Song

The floor was bare
the light was soft
your heart was cold
but I loved it all
kites in the park
shapes in the dark
after the parties end
the song of the lark

carry the memories with me
like a hospital IV
I laughed until I cried
got sick and almost died
I don’t have a reason
I don’t think I’ll ever know why

a boy born deaf
that broken head
is a mother’s love
there to protect
a girl turned blind
those gorgeous eyes
shapes in the dark
the whispered lines

carry me in your hands
stop sorrow like a dam
your pain is not a cross
crucified because you lost
I can’t find the reason
life’s a silent car crash and a fever at dawn

monothematic delusion in a bathroom
so I talked right back, I thought that I should
and if I lose my mind I guess I’m meant to
all the rest is gone
why leave the best of it behind?
and what’s the difference
between death and wasting time?

carry reflections in me
like a vanity
I stared until I smiled
got lost for a little while
I don’t need a reason
just a promise to keep and a million miles.

Caravana

What’s an ossuary by another name
and what’s the steady hum of an interstate
but the coda of a movement or the wiping of slate
when your face is not your face
when I take myself back to Shangri-La
they look at me like I’m someone else’s god
so I’ll go back to the city where I’m no one
and be an atheist like them

quarry town is stuck to my bones
devil town has taken my soul
but purple flowers grow on my heart
from a town foreign and far
I’ll return to you

crowded like the corridors of Coyoacán
quiet as the temple down in Tepoztlán
feeling like a baby that’s just been born
just a new place to call home

quarry town is stuck to my bones
devil town has taken my soul
but purple flowers grow on my heart
from a town foreign and far
I’ll return to you

I will believe
in the things I see
and I will believe
in me
and if that’s all
then I think I’ll be fine

I’ll catch a caravana to that holy garden
I’m gonna kill Adam and steal his woman
because the killers and the cheaters get the most attention
it’s the fickle face of fame

quarry town is stuck to my bones
devil town has taken my soul
but purple flowers grow on my heart
from a town foreign and far
I’ll return to you

Bugambilias

Purple pedals fell in a significant way
a way to make even the cruelest conscience sway
beauty built into the earth like ghosts of the dead
those purple pedals fell

slept in a house of stone up Tlalpan way
the sort of place that dares a wanderer to stay
but still a midnight bus took me far away
to a town no poetry could touch

I think that I might leave my home
for a place where the Bugambilias grow

broke a fever laying in a pool of sweat
and all my dreams got tangled up in a hammock’s net
climbed a color mountain toward a pure white cross
and neither of us lost

a renaissance came on the first day of spring
I found my place at the top of a pyramid
the town below spread out like Quetzalcoatl’s wings
the warm wind was a song

I think that I might leave my home
for a place where the Bugambilias grow.

Dead Village Sway (Hipster Honky Tonk)

I know exactly what love is worth
it’s worth 7 points on a Scrabble board
at least in its purest form
unless you cheat
then it’s worth so much more

this time around I go first
loser takes all of the curse
so let’s drink to the stakes and the world
and I just might cheat
it’s about goddamn time that I get a turn

how many wake-up calls will it take me
to keep from going right back to sleep?
and how many warning signs and I willing to ignore?
I’ll stare Satan in the eye and demand another pour

we all have a disease that no one sees
this town’s an asylum that none of us leave
so I medicate to feel free
and head home to Brooklyn where the cells are a lot cheaper

how many wake-up calls will it take me
to keep from going right back to sleep?
and how many warning signs and I willing to ignore?
I’ll stare Satan in the eye and demand another pour

the village turned black at the end of the day
you smoked a cigarette and said I liked it this way
“you love to love, but it’s the word you’ll never say”
so I like to laugh and fuck just as much as I like to walk away

how many wake-up calls will it take me
to keep from going right back to sleep?
and how many warning signs and I willing to ignore?
I’ll stare Satan in the eye and demand another pour.

Leaving Song

when i pick up my guitar
i only sing about the scars
i know that joy sounds better
but i swore i’d never lie

i feel at home in a hotel
but not inside this cracking shell
that i just patch up with poison
i guess it’s easier to pretend
that i am fine
i am fine

when i wake up to the day
i stumble and stare till the swill and sway
and when someone taps me on the wrist
i know i’m supposed to apologize
and say that i am fine
i am fine

i will be careful
i will be here if you need me
but i am not a body
so don’t you weep if i leave it behind

so if i decide to leave tonight
don’t expect me to say goodbye
someday you’ll see it’s better
to remember the hellos
you’ll be fine
you’ll be fine