Harvey Dog Writings

It’s a nice day to die
she said
revving the engine
of her silver
machine

(the sun was setting
in a peculiar way,
angels were praying
in the desert sun)

you gamble you take chances
or why wake up?
she said

fading light
merges into
the darkness ahead

stars soar through
blackhole dancefloors,
free, unconstrained,
I ride satellites
seeking wisdom
…
a levitating
arthritic finger
points
at a broken tree
and whispers:
“over there”

“I roll 6 joints
& watch reruns of The Office.
I’m a doobie girl.”

butterfly dilemma
caught in a net
of mystery

flickering shadows
floating schemes
fleeting dreams
strobe light eyeballs
dance to the rhythm
of anal high

I feel love no more,
emptiness,
a void

I feel hate no more,
ambivalence,
insignificance

you mean nothing
I mean nothing

does it hurt?
yes?

there’s still hope…

brilliant, insightful,
penetrating words
…
never escape a distraught
(distracted) mind

ideas scatter haphazardly
as pen is (penis) put to paper

what was the question?

“When we moved
to Canada
we worked from
sunrise to sunset
& sometimes
beyond”

a pebble shines
in the distance
beyond immediate
grasp,
working to
narrow the gap
inch by inch by inch

the bus is late
I’m out of time

the stewards of reality
are having a meeting
about my destiny!

here I stand
waiting…

waiting for the
fucking bus
…again

How R U?
she asked

I replied:
“That’s a
complex
question.
I don’t
know
how to
answer that.”

I stare
at head-lights
approaching

deceptive
deceivers
at the door

no one’s there

altered perceptions
a hint of truth
a touch of revelation

the elusive truth
of dreams