The Westport Series


at this point I'm sauntering
in these cowboy boots
will you tell me
why grown men try
to be boys

there is music inside
what about me that's just crumbled
I speak in pretend

drunkenness, are you sleeping
no, not yet, are you
what about me
drunkenness, sober up kid
I'm just trying to do my job

lovely, lovely man

did the man
of drunken epitaphs
finally slither away

I forgot to mention that I am god

I really don't celebrate these holidays
personally, I feel that every day
should be celebrated
every person should be the same
every day
it's just another night
but it doesn't smell as badly
there must be a lot of wind

I've been here for three weeks
you should have seen
as god as my judge I never said anything
I try to respect everyone
I just say the wrong things sometimes

it's suddenly warm here
here, remember to take your notes on life
with you when you go


when should we come
looking for you

we make our art silver and transitory
I can't quite tell when the smoke is gone
in the cold
if you stay inside you'll miss the show

I wear my strength around me
like a shield of Chinese letters

yes I would keep listening
the light walks across the facades
and I can hear the beat in your words
it's music

you can avoid my eyes if you want to
do you think that I don't notice
how you're not here when I'm not looking

don't ask if I'm all right
you don't want to know
I'm fine, it's all right, you don't need this

aren't you cold
no not quite
this makes sense to me, though not enough

I'm out of date
I'll give my conversation to anyone who wants it
a gift from the shadows


maybe I'm an angel
here in my corner of this room
at least inside the doors it's warm
I've quit smoking, so now it's colder outside,

inside, life is cruel
maybe you should wait and see
Inspiration comes so seldom, so slowly
lately the art moves
it's like nothing you've ever seen
I don't smoke anymore, so it's harder to write
at least the snow melted on the streets
it was a good omen though, while it lasted


this is the nice part
I used to think that I was
prone to fits of greatness
I was wrong
I'm smoking again
I never learned how to expel the smoke gracefully
so I just let it roll on my tongue

when you watch people they worry
because you're looking into them
I'm not though, dear, I'm looking through you
some people, secretless, aren't worth my glance

say I smile sadly

more worth my glance than others
would you warm me, if I were cold
I dream of legs crossing, mine crossing yours
I never manage to do this right
tell me all of your secrets


it's warm, bitter
I can't feel you with these gloves on

we're all a family here
and there's sex in that statement
all a family here

the street is dead, save for the wind
so I am thinking, inside, about you