Tag Archives: escape

Elfin Cheyenne

The winter sky ragged and silver, like ice unevenly scraped off a windshield on a bitter January morning.

Cheyenne, elfin Cheyenne, thin and proud and bright, a young woman with blood under her fingernails

and the golden hue stolen from the summer harvest in her shock of hair, the brown dirt on the shorn sides.

We smoke cigarettes beneath Father’s bedroom window, conspirators and comrades, all around rogues,

telling crude and cruel jokes, planning our escape to the sunny land of San Diego, made Eden in our minds.

We have a bottle of liquor set aside when we finally make it across the tall and high suicide bridge together.

The hopeful twilight of first cracks in the morning, Venus disinclined to fuck off, and she tells us secrets of

the places the dead know to score peace and magic, and the ground dust of the fairies who once betrayed us.

We will line them up like pixie sticks, the innocent cocaine, and regain what they took while our heads were turned.

And Little Cheyenne, who can not be made redundant due to madness and malcontentedness in extravagant living,

tells me after she gets done bussing the tables at the Paradise Grove Club, off of 75 on the abandoned Kentucky border,

we’ll get this tenuous and sweet reaching for the sun well and truly done, in her beat up CRX we’ll cross the desert that

claimed Mother all those years ago, and we’ll triumph over the boney and icy fingers of angels, delighting in squeezing our hearts.

I hug her tight, thinking this is the perfect moment, knowing it will happen, but it has not yet come.

Child Of The Sun

No Promise of Outer Space

Black leather and denim hoodie, the hood drawn over her face.

               An old ‘70s Yamaha motorbike, a faded and flecked blue.

               Drizzly rain, clouds a crown on a starry night,

               No promise of outer space.


               Death and life in the smell of gasoline, the fire of damnation

               And fuel of the frontier, the scream of speed into darkness.

               I got on the motorbike behind her, press myself to her,

               No promise of heaven, only escape.


               One jammed open eye showing light on the empty highways,

               From the bleak valleys of these Appalachian Mountains,

               To the arid plains, on our way to the Sea of Cortez,

               No promise of love, only of sweetness.


               Asleep beneath the sky, the air chill and the stars endless,

               My head on her shoulder, watching her breathe, at peace.

               Sleeping bag snug for two, as if her skin could swallow me.

               No promise of dreams, only hope.

Warm Through Leather

Old motorbike, white and blue, new tires, full tank.

The moon pushes the sun in an argument of their rank.

So few stars here, even in the mountians, so few points of light.

Kickstart the engine. Her head on my shoulder, arms holding tight.


In the dark, the shard of the white headlight cutting into the black,

heading to someplace promised in a dream, and we’re never coming back.

The small, ramshackle houses give way to only trees and the battered highway.

Her body is against mine, and warm through leather, and showing the lost way.


The broken promises and the lost live and the bitter things that were our future,

the dreams and love and threadbare hope we had to hold on to and bitterly suture,

The sense that’s there a place in the sun or in the night or that there’s a kiss from the moon,

trying not to burn away our hope and sweetness, for something ours, that’s our sacred boon.


So over the mountain, to a place promised in a dream, to some place safe and beautiful,

where our love will grow, and our life will be something good, and laughter is pletiful.

She holds on and I can feel her breathing, I can feel her heart race, I can feel our weight.

We got to go to a place promised in dream, got to escape this place, before it’s too late.


Down To The Sea

I ride the train, down to New Orleans, down to the sea.

Scars and tattered dreams and my love are all that’s with me.

I hear the sea is golden as the sun rises over it in the morning.

I hear her name, I hear her voice, breaking me without warning.


That house is ashes now. May it burn forever in the pits of hell.

That town is long gone behind me, the pain still clear as a bell.

I walk on the beach, the star light washing me clean of blood.

I carry something inside of me. I carrying something damned as a bud.


That blue water, that golden sun, that desperate hope for an end.

Yet the angels burn our eyes with their holy flames on the wind.

If I sleep I’ll dream of a sea where sirens sing what I never heard.

My thought pecked out of my skull by a pair of black singing birds.

Black Tops As The Baby Grows

Hot shower soothes my knotted, tired muscles.
Harsh water burns away the hate and anger.
Stinging skin can only feel the heat and death.
All other cares are drifing away as I become numb.
 Wrapped in a soft blanket in my faithful recliner.
Pretty woman telling me about all my teams.
Sports world is another world, not my world.
But my real favorites don’t get talked about here.
 And a game, any game, carried away in the fire.
Sports world is another world, not my world.
Not filled with dark thoughts, and rotted dreams.
Not filled with anger and hate, bleeding through a smile.

Starlight On The Wind

The road could take us down, down to the sea.
We could talk through the night, for all eternity.
The  road could take us west, to snowy peaks,
where ancient dreams and a soft angel speaks.
The road could take us to paradise, or a calm.
We’d never run out of sun and love, a soothing balm.
You don’t have to go back, I will keep you near.
I will keep you with me, make every demon disappear.

I remember when you were a little girl, so bright.
All love and laughter and energy, always a delight!
I remember the drive to be the best, to be your best.
I don’t know what you trying to outrun, put to rest.
I remember the time spent talking, and planning it all.
I hope I didn’t push you too much, set you up to fall.
I remember the far away looks out the window, traveling.
I don’t know that something was burning, you were unraveling.

 This road could drive us to Fairbanks, or Galveston, or New York.
We could have ice cream or fancy meals with red wine to uncork.
Roadside attractions or historical places, or just drive to the end.
We could find Eden in Missouri, or the starlight on the wind.
Just tell me where and we’ll go, any place that can make you shine again.
There’s no judges here, no crowds or trophies, any race for you to win.
You don’t have to go back, I’ll keep you here with me, fighting torment.
You don’t have to go back, to the lonely school where darkness forments.
 Stay with me.

Stay with me.

 Let’s go to the sea.
 Stay with me.


Big Texas sky with a bright, bright sun.
You are beside me baby, you’re the one.
Yellow and black cheerleader uniform
matching my muscle car in it’s perfect form.
We’re going places baby, down to the coast.
We’re going to the sea, like the heavenly host.
That song so joyous playing, the windows down,
your chestnut hair flowing, leaving this town.
Down to Galveston, to the edge of the sea.
Down to the water, paradise for you and me.
And I’ve got the money to make a new start
and this world won’t break us, or tear us apart.
A little place right on the beach, hear the waves.
The place for you and me and our souls it saves.

With Their Thunder

Dreaming of Paris in spring, as I look out the window at dreary winter.
Dreaming of riding on narrow streets on a scooter, a pretty girl holding on to me,
her dark hair blowing behind her like the banner of Joan of Arc,
and with all the holiness of a love divine.
The mountains block the sky, the clouds ever low and colorless.
I dream of her, Francoise Hardy on my headphones, as the bus rolls on,
of her face veiled in cigarette smoke, and her smile cruel and full of promises,
walking hand in hand in ancient streets.
Dark hair, perfumed and silky, just us in the regal and pristine moonlight.
Someplace better than the rut in the earth that is this fucking town.
Filling my face with those dark locks, feeling the soft warmth of her skin,
as we kiss, kiss deep and hard and passionately, as the sun rises up.

Just Bird Songs Calling

A bathing woman, all alone, cool and deep waters.
The sky above is a sliver through the tall trees,
and she watches the clouds drift past as she floats.
 The day is quiet, just bird songs and the wind calling.
She is weightless in the water, free to dream and love,
dream of the shining one she always adored from afar.
 The water is cool, and the day is warm, growing dark.
She is free here, without there eyes, or their voices.
The sky and her are one, but she must fall back to earth.