From Joce’s The Art of Dreams Diary, 1994/1995
Lined up like a picture,
my 5-man army boys,
wearing different armor,
lined up, like tin toys.
Looking proud and self-assured,
he winks and spouts a lying word.
Avery is a loving fool,
but sweet and innocent and cruel.
And gentle Ben, his grace well-known,
he wears a smile, angel-sewn.
In the humblest of attire,
A warmth and presence we admire.
Broken-hearted and anxious-eyed,
Clinton’s wishes are denied.
Confusion clutters up his soul,
while life's great chances take their toll.
Jackson, Jackson, with wicked heart,
he builds you up, then takes you apart,
Cheshire in his every way,
he sneaks up, scares, and flies away.
Malik great and Malik tall,
lets you see behind his wall,
then rebuilds it, brick by brick,
reminding you he’s Satan’s trick.
The Number Game
or Going Bankrupt (Malik)
11 months of
sluggish Sunday mornings
38 channels beckoning
to your thick digits.
I drive my route
6.5 minutes faster,
A girlie Andretti in my
I avoid the harried politics
of Washington Street,
Where 11 pink roses give the
appearance of a perfect dozen.
$1.19 for a pack of the
cheapest cigarettes they sell.
11 years between
and being green.
Then 9 days to heal
Just 2 more to burst
'65 and '77
make 11 and
1 and 1
Anyway, Thanks for the Time
Our conversations drag like dead
so I might as well draw on the phone book
or look up people I used to know
and might call if you ever hang up, shut up.
But you speak in solitary enthusiasm
in such romantic terms.
Things we’ll do and maybe be rich,
when actually you’re too busy to do anything.
I think I like being lonely.
Just some music and a pen
and TV’s great because no one reminds me of you.
So, do you want me?
Your words seem too, but actions can’t.
Don’t call and tell me you’re sorry and that
you didn’t really mean what you said.
Since you ruined my life once before.
Because there’s always more silence
than talk anyways.
So, thanks for the time,
but, I'd rather be lonely alone.