Bugolgi Apparatus

I scare them all away 

 I scare them all away

Is it the way I look 

or what I say 

they’re going by the book 

that’s what they said 

eyes start to move 

searching the exit 

they’ll stay for dessert 

then make their break 

I scare them all away 

back to their little caves 

they bolt their doors and pray 

for a return to boring 

I get lonely 

like everyone else 

it’s more about disappointment 

than anything else 

that unquenched thirst 

for more of the same 

is something I’ve never 

been able to explain 

I stand at the center of the square

peering into their faces 

they’re too busy with trends 

to really notice

so I step on them 

knock down their buildings 

blow out the sun 

as they curse the weather 

it’s enough to 

make a monster

just want to 

be by himself 


one’s not enough

you need more stuff

someone to carry it home

maybe support/reinforcement

multiplication for what

who needs more

you want a double

maybe a triple

one’s not enough

something could happen

you could easily snap

then be completely lost

she senses something

completing sentences

so much for individuality, gone

thinking she could use

another pair of hands

but maybe not another mouth

Metaphor Shortages 

 Metaphor Shortages

can’t wear those pants no more

i don’t dance for anyone

can’t drink more than soda

no more chili dog runs

don’t deal with Frank at all

haven’t called cousins in ages

they supported that fraud

i cancelled the engagement

one door opens another closes

dream dies another’s born

riding these waves like a leaf

floating in a flash flood

still think about you daily

still read for full-on days

ruminating possibilities

with the impatience of age

wanna be more compassionate

gonna get out of debt

be playing you the piano

but haven’t learned it yet

Thinking thematically about stuff no one cares about 

 My friend Sean Flora is finishing mixes on the next mini-album, "Nudes" and should be ready in two-three weeks, depending on how badly he needs the money. 

I'm sitting on an embarrassing number of albums and as I'm single and everyone close to me is dead, I guess I've got the luxury of putting out stuff at some sort of pace. I figure a 20-minute "album" every 4 months shouldn't look too pathetically desperate, but I could be wrong. Hey, Beatles used to do that. 

"Nudes" sort of fits nicely against "Obsessives" and "Insomnia", my last two releases as the albums are a bit more intimate and diy compared to the others I'm preparing. Short of another quickie, I've got lots with so many gobs of overdubs by very high-level folks that they threaten to bury me in my own songs. 

It's an interesting experience to approach/pay people you grew up listening to to work on your stuff. "What do these people think when approached by hobbyists like yourself?" She asked me, assuring me that any self-respecting woman who wanted a family would order an immediate cease and desist. 

As I struggled to not be triggered by the same sort of question that was lobbed at me by most of my immediate family, I quickly fell back into the "everyone's suffering through the same paradigm" response, and reminded her that most of the greats had day jobs. 

But I should have mentioned that there's quite a thrill getting keyboards from Barry Andrews, guitars from Ivan Julian, saz from Lu Edmonds, or basslines from Paulo LePetit; people I've listened to for years. It turns on my middle-aged mind. 

The Female Form  

chasing that line
your entire life
entangled surrounded
from all sides
cat with a laser
closer then disappears
while you’ve been
inside the entire time
the distance makes
things delicious
you feel a weakness
from a certain perspective
the female form
rules your mind
you can only forget about it
for seconds at a time
the female form
shapes your time
from before you were born
until your last smile

God Responds 

 God Responds

I get a lot of prayers from people

who are like,

“Can you give me that one

again; I think I can handle it now”

Or “if I just had a bit more talent 

here I could make it”

Or even, “I wanna redo 

this decade”

And I don’t know how they 

read my silences

but if they just looked around

maybe they’d see how 

ridiculous they sound

-buncha stupid pink monkeys

What the book wants  

 What The Book Wants 

when you put it down 

you’re far from done 

thoughts demand action 

demanding blood

you could read another 

but you’d just move deeper 

as you search for signs 

of literacy in the world 

They stir up the memories

Rearrange the thoughts

I don’t think they resonate 

Unless they touch on love

And then it spills out of your mind

Catches on your tongue 

You expel it from your body 

Thinking it was somehow yours