Tag Archives: photography




He might be Woody Guthrie or Jack Kerouac

riding boxcars or on the road searching for a soul

Tom and his blood clan Joad

crossing the desert searching for work

any job will do

you can spot his hopelessness by that mangy, tattered look

You’ve seen him at highway rest stops and dive hotels

he’s the hitchhiker you didn’t pick up

the reason you avoid truck stops

He’s the graffiti on the side of a boxcar passing in the rain

fresh footsteps in new fallen snow

the one that looks like Jesus combing the beach

he reminds of freedom and he’s the reason you dream of leaving

When times become tight he finds solace in a bone orchard

dreaming of companions lost

taking refuge under the cover of the moon

a silver beam for a blanket pulled over weary head

When road stake runs low

he never wavers from following the code


I’m a vagabond on the roll

trekking far and wide, seeking anything I can find

to heal this fractured soul

On a black river of disconnection an asphalt ribbon carries me

from Smokey Mountains to Denver, seeking sanctuary

across red desert sands where grains are fused like glass

reflecting back this flight as destiny slips through my hands

When storms come and I’m seeking higher ground

winding through mountain passes where shamans dwell

I’ll shed my load in temples where secrets of ancients can be found

Possible futures I see

silhouetted against a perpetually moving horizon

and this driving thirst has been whetted

this thirst to push on, find answers that lay beyond

Destination unknown

this vagabond rides into a tangerine sky

so many days on the run

too many days I’ve spent

chasing the sun

Worker’s Prayer

Kneel down at the corporate altar

pray for economic strength

record profits

a healthy stock market

wait for the riches to trickle down

Cry and scream

at the corporate wailing wall

beg manufactures not to leave

move factories to foreign lands

no no no

please don’t take away

high paying jobs and financial security

our carrot on a stick

that keeps us pushing forward

craving education

pushing us harder to achieve

comfort for our families

We will frequent your temples

five days a week, if given the opportunity

eight hours a day, more if you request

whatever it takes to ensure your success

try to be something greater

shed blood sweat and tears

sell our souls

sacrifice our lives

to serve your purpose

This blood stained altar erected just for you

we’ve adorned with tax abatements


and off shore banks

so you can protect your wealth

met your demands

so we all might prosper

only to discover

that the only thing trickling down

is your shit

Red Ball

Red Ball originally appeared in  Urban Hymns




Red ball

I am a ribbon of light along the eastern horizon

gently peeking at this brand new world

gathering courage to rise

growing slowly aware

shattering darkness at dawn

I am a melting yellow sun at noon

spreading across the sky

unstoppable, unfathomable, impossible to look upon

dissolving shadows

reaching my zenith in late afternoon

I am the evening sun in twilight hours

final ribbon of light carrying the particles

pieces of everything complete

disintegrating into a red ball sinking into my horizon

dimming down, once and for all, dying out

particles of being absorbed into the night

Gypsy Logic



Spirit is free flowing

like a river untamed

carving out a path

into territory unknown

disconnected from society’s shackles

set free, liberated

escaping the white noise

that holds me down

Spirit takes wing

soaring into the void

where a quarter moon rises

over a desolate field

an empty desert

above the hills that rise to the mountains

that give way to the sea

to that distant place

where there exists no more me

Secretly I yearn

for an empty highway

vagabond friends

the sun moon and stars

sleet snow and rain

‘cause there I know I’ll find

a sense of community






Sometimes I see you

just out of view

out of the corner of my eye

quick as a hummingbird in flight

and when I turn my head you’re gone

as if you were none

as if you were never there

vanishing into the air


Took the last exit

final train of thought so desperate

where the bridge had crumbled

and the road disappeared into rubble

trying to get to you

where a harsh wind blew

down a winding path

into desolation’s wrath

knocking on closed doors

not knowing what I’m looking for

but no one was home

in this land of desperation I roam


Changed my name a time or two

spinning bullets in a revolver so few

changed my address

another move in this game of chess

a new street in a new town

facing my shadow in a showdown


Tried a new scene

escaping old routines

changed my ways

hoping for better days

spent a lifetime

dodging Life’s mines

searching for myself

searching for you

Knocking on closed doors

never knowing what I’m looking for

but no one was home

in this land of desperation I roam


Rust Belt

Another excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:




The Rust Belt is spreading across America as more and more manufacturing plants move overseas. When I was laid off at a semiconductor plant in 2003 the final email I received (accidentally released too soon; see Broken Highways) described why this layoff occurred. I was struck by the emotion of the email which was blunt, but optimistic about the future of the company with an edge of excitement. To paraphrase the email, it announced that the company was building 26 new state of the art manufacturing plants in China. 26!!! Why would anyone in America be excited by that? The plant has closed its doors and sits empty, most likely to never reopen.




Walking these streets

city in decay

buildings falling down

people falling down

in cities and small towns

all across the rust belt


corporate devastation

people in migration

nowhere left to go

decay touching every soul

nowhere left to go

living in the rust belt

Every street is a dead end

so many fences left to mend

people carry the weight

no longer masters of their own fate

misery cards dealt

living in the rust belt


Country Boy


Like Hendrix I always had a little Voodoo Chile in me, country style.


Born outside a small town

a place of little renown

born in the backwoods

void of material goods

under a bad sign

a shooting star

over a blood red moon

where copperheads go

to shed their skin

where Mother Nature goes

to shed her sins

Jump up and down

fall on your knees

there’s a new song coming around

a new day dawning, you’ll see

cover your ears

cover your eyes

‘cause someday you’re going to hear

truth undisguised

and the cries of the masses

as awareness spreads

in random flashes

as superstition ebbs

liberating the classes

I’m a country boy

and all I’ve got is this beat up guitar

just another decoy

thinking I’m going to go far

I’ll play you something loud

or something soft and slow

something that will make you proud

something to soothe an aching soul

I was born on the night

when dogs lost their bark

and shadows grew afraid of the light

the same night Angels refused to hark

birds refused to sing

and we saw that the land was scarred with cracks

the night church bells didn’t ring

and coyotes turned their backs

on the rising moon

and other nocturnal things

Going Down


Another excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:


Think this one works better as a song than a poem.



Lost my job

lost my house

got to find a brand new spouse

‘cause I’m going down

catch me when I’m falling brother

‘cause I’m going down

This rain won’t stop

raining around the clock

levee bursting at the seams

don’t know what it means

levee holding back my troubles

good intentions buried in the rubble


No take home pay

think I lost my way

living on the streets

can’t get back on my feet

I’m going down

Banks I’d rob

they cost me my job

but I don’t have a gun

don’t like living on the run

so here I’ll remain

trying to stay sane

another child of the sun

hopeless when the world comes undone


Another excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:


Beaten and emotionally scarred by the years, most of us always manage to find a way to rise up and go back out into the world again. This is Life. It’s what humans do. There are others that may do it better, who don’t seem to fall as far when knocked down, who rebound from defeat quicker, but none of that matters. What’s important is that we do pick ourselves up to fight again. Life isn’t about the success and the failure. Life is all about the learning that comes from the trying. Many scars I have accumulated through the learning.



Through the barbed thistles of life

I’ll run

thorns slicing through the flesh

I’ll run

feel the blood run down my limbs

I’ll run

run without regret

Out on the streets

bring me to my knees

where a cold north wind blows

I’ll rise up

put the wind and troubles to my back

and walk straight into the sun

Cut me with passion

pierce my soul with love

let me slip

watch me fall

and I’ll rise up

just to do it all over again

Love me

accuse me

break my heart in two

‘cause I don’t mind the scars

that come from knowing you

Scars is also about my relation with that unseen force that all physical things originate from. I don’t know what this force is or where it comes from but I do believe in its existence. A universe by design seems plausible to my primitive senses but I don’t know if this force created the universe or was embedded into the fabric of the universe at the time of creation. Or perhaps I’m only inserting a supernatural being into my rationalization at the point where my understanding of the universe ends. I honestly do not know. What I do know is that, like most poets, I’m a seeker searching for answers where others fear to look, inside their souls.