The Rain And The Sky

the rain and the sky

i walk the long plank running
never learned it any other way
i see my shadow coming
but it don’t make little difference

i step outside, i am reminded
of the rain and the sky

i put one foot
in front of the other
one foot when the
other won’t stay

one foot in front
of the other, when the
other won’t stay, nothin’s
standin in the way

so when youre walking around
and you notice that its all a charade
and your feet kiss the ground with
each step like a Buddhist parade
and your heart is abounding with
thots of a previous day,

you might feel kinda sentimental
but its after the fact,

just step outside and be reminded
of the rain and the sky

i put one foot
in front of the other
one foot when the
other won’t stay

one foot in front
of the other, when the
other won’t stay, nothin’s
standin in the way

so when youre swimming around
in the dark with a light switch
one arm’s length away,
on a wintery day,
on a cold and
a cold and a
wintery day,

just step outside and be reminded
of the rain and the sky


-Bree 1998

No Regard

No Regard

as if the sun were wavering
or the clouds, wrinkling
into themselves

smoke given off by wet grasses
melts through the air,
nothing more than colored
shadows,
then disappears

moss-stricken trees
look down at their toes,
flutter heartless,
and steep in the arbor

a dark gale whispers

i do not listen to the words

i have no regard
for words to the weary,
and anyway,

every day there is a new sky
a new sky, every every day
and every sky has a new face,
one artist’s impression
of the race against time,
or the sun, wavering
or the clouds, wrinkling
into themselves

so when a dark gale whispers
i do not listen to the words
i do not listen to the words


written originally as a poem in 2000 in a red 1994 Celica staring out the window on about West VA en route to the Smoky Mts., TN.

Igloo Blues

My Igloo

baby, my igloo
you chilled sweaty dreams
of escape, to keep me
from feverous longings
i so needed to satiate

as your empty terrace
admits, i’ve escaped

cold hands
and bandaged knee
i walk the streets
alone altho i know
you would have carried
me, baby,
you wouldve carried me

you shldnt carry
your hot momma, baby
i know i said i want a
tall drink of water,
but you was
too cool for me

you was too cold for me


written originally as a poem to my mother in 1994. adapted as a blues song in 2001 to accompany Larnie Zellner's blues harp.

Pushin' It

Pushin’ It

i’m pushin it, sumtimes, i know
ain’t no use in cryin’
i’m just pushin it sumtimes

yeah i act crazy, sumtimes,
and not like a lady
and you roll me your eyes,
as i’m rollin the dice

may lose some money
then act like it’s funny
and i know it’s not nice,

i’m just pushin it sumtimes.

i’m pushin it, sumtimes, i know
ain’t no use in cryin’
i’m just pushin it sumtimes

i may be funny,
get looked at, but honey,
isn’t it nice?

i mean, won’t it suffice?

cuz we got the world on a
we holdin’ the string, and
aw, isn’t it nice?
we neat, with no ice.

we just pushin’ it sumtimes.

we’re pushin it, sumtimes, i know
ain’t no use in cryin’
we keep pushin it sumtimes

yeah we get in trouble
start seein in double
and be feelin the limes,
but the road we will climb

cuz two grins make a right,
and what’s left of a night
means you holding me tight.

we just keep pushin’ it sumtimes
we keep on pushin it sumtimes

chorus came in 2003 and eventually in 2005 i found some verses for this Fats Waller-inspired tune.

He-Wolf

He-Wolf

he wolf, sneaky one
with that wide, sandpaper
tongue, wet in places.

you spread your juices on
the moon, slow, like
butter melting,

and she carried you
connected by joint
and crater
in an archway
to ascending sky,

she sucked you
in installments, slowly
savoring the life in you

fuller with each turn
she churned you
in her bowl of caramel skin,

and when you ailing
mewed your last, lonesome
utterance, she smiled
and returned you to
soft earth so you
could
lick away the lint,
and take a rest.

he wolf, sneaky one
with that wide, sandpaper
tongue, wet in places,
you spread your juices
on the moon
so slow like
butter melting,
and she carried you.



one of my first poems that stuck with me, written circa 1992-93. arranged to a Bengali folk song in 2003.

How Long Can You Be Liza?

Liza/ the In The John Song

how long can you be,
Liza, dear Liza,
Liza, how long can you be?

I mean monopolize the
can, dear Liza, keeping it
away from me?

I admit I waits too long,
nights like these,
forget about my body’s
needs, I wish I knew

How long, Liza, dear Liza,
Liza how long can you be?

Liza how long can you be?

I admit it,
gin won’t let
me forget it

I waits too long,
that’s why I’m
singin this song

Liza—
dear, dear Liza
Liza, how long can you be?

Liza how long can you be?


written in the restroom over the course of time bartending at the Barking Spider 2001-2008, waiting for the single woman's toilet.

The Old Overlap

Overlapping (to the tune of ABCs or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)

i lie in bed like a milk sip
in a Tupperware container,
i stretch out further than
my lap, with a stick,

and you are overlapping
like a river or a cat
who can’t decide,

and you are only music
playing with time,
which keeps on tickin’ tick.

outside, the trees are
wearin’ socks and ties.
their shadows dance
with our shadows, like
a kite,

and time
is casing the bed.
time keeps on waiting
like a scab,
and time is checking in
with the beat of
all things rockin’.
time
is like a novel,
reads best at night
alone, in a dark
house, love clean
out of sight.


poem written in 2000, adapted to the ABCD Song while on mushrooms in 2003.

Nature Hike Blues

nature hike

roll up your pants, baby
we’ll go for a hike
roll up your pants,
baby, we’ll go on
a nature hike

you can wipe your hands
later, let’s build us an
apetite.

maybe climb, i’ll need a
boost, or two
maybe climb, i’ll need a
boost, or two

wade in them rocks and water,
and maybe i’ll get used to you.

can’t keep the flies from buggin’
oh, but i ain’t that kind of lady
plenty of time for huggin’
ooh-ooh, and you know
i’m a lady

sun’s way up in the sky
baby, go on a hike
with me

(go on a nature hike)
go on a hike
with me.


written in 2005, inspired by Billie Holiday.

Trees and Bushes

trees and bushes

trees and the bushes dont mind
our rubbish and trash
they grow perfectly still
through our storms, only
wind can alter their branches

and the crows and the sparrows
are playing together
this morning,
they dont mind our differences,
they simply celebrate
for the cause of things

keep your eyes to the
birds and the trees
for they simply
celebrate,
every day every day every day
they grow closer to everything

trees and the bushes
dont mind our emptiness
they dont feel the confusion,
cant see the dishonest faces
of men

and they carry on in foliage costumes,
look this one wears and ivy vest,
this one with mossy knees,
it occurs to me,
they dance a certain dance
in rhythm with the breeze

and the crows and the sparrows
are playing together this morning
they dont mind our differences
they simply celebrate for the
cause of things

keep your eyes to the
birds and the trees
for they simply celebrate,
every day every day every
day they grow closer to
everything


written walking my regular route to work early mornings over the course of a week in summertime 1997.

Dust Catcher

Dust Catcher

Daddy u mean vacuum cleaner, uh huh.
U sucked the dirt from my face, ass and
hips, losing traces of my heart in the
process, with openings
diamonds take years to grow in.

Daddy, u stole my hot breath
till it ran cold and smooth as
a statue’s, its hard to move.
For we are the dust catchers, we two.
U are a vacuum, and I am a witch who
got carried away by her broom.

U chopped off my leg to make it
easier to sweep, but u lost the
attachment, so now I’ve a visible limp,
(don’t think they wont notice)

Please replace my calve with that
rosebush braided, to persuade nasty men
with my thorns to think again before
climbing my sex.

You and I with our brooms will sit
chins in our hands, alone in our rooms
and we’ll catch any dust as it settles.

Mesmerized by ceramic, and careful
not to slip, I’ll study your mad tattoo
leaving my arms open, Daddy
I’m your little girl.

-Bree 1992