Both Hands



i am walking

out in the rain

and i am listening to the low moan

of the dial tone again

and i am getting

nowhere with you

and i can't let it go

and i can't get through...

the old woman behind the pink curtains

and the closed door

on the first floor

she's listening through the air shaft

to see how long our swan song can last

and both hands

now use both hands

oh, no don't close your eyes

i am writing

graffiti on your body

i am drawing the story of

how hard we tried

i am watching your chest rise and fall

like the tides of my life,

and the rest of it all

and your bones have been my bedframe

and your flesh has been my pillow

i am waiting for sleep

to offer up the deep

with both hands

in each other's shadows we grew less and less tall

and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all

and i'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall

and eventually the landlord will come

and paint over it all

and i am walking

out in the rain

and i am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again

and i am getting nowhere with you

and i can't let it go

and i can't get through

so now use both hands

please use both hands

oh, no don't close your eyes

i am writing graffiti on your body

i am drawing the story of how hard we tried

hard we tried

how hard we tried



Talk To Me Now



he said ani, you've gotten tough

'cause my tone was curt

yeah, and when i'm approached in a dark alley

i don't lift my skirt

in this city

self-preservation

is a full time occupation

i'm determined

to survive on these shores

i don't avert my eyes anymore

in a man's world

i am a woman by birth

and after nineteen times around i have found

they will stop at nothing once they know what you are worth

talk to me now

i played the powerless

in too many dark scenes

and i was blessed with a birth and a death

and i guess i just want some say in between

don't you understand

in the day to day

in the face to face

i have to act

just as strong as i can

just to preserve a place

where i can be who i am

so if you still know how

talk to me now



The Slant



the slant

a building settling around me

my figure female framed crookedly

in the threshold

of the room

door scraping floorboards

with every opening

carving a rough history

of bedroom scenes

the plot hard to follow

the text obscured

in the folds of sheets

slowly gathering the stains

of seasons spent lying there

red and brown

like leaves fallen

the colors of an eternal cycle

fading with the

wash cycle

and the rinse cycle

again an unfamiliar smell

like my name misspelled

or misspoken

a cycle broken

the sound of them strong

stalking talking about their prey

like the way hammer meets nail

pounding, they say

pounding out the rhythms of attraction

like a woman was a drum like a body was a weapon

like there was something more they wanted

than the journey

like it was owed to them

steel toed they walk

and i'm wondering why this fear of men

maybe it's because i'm hungry

and like a baby i'm dependent on them

to feed me

i am a work in progress

dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding

offering me intricate patterns of questions

rhythms that never come clean

and strengths that you still haven't seen



Work Your Way Out



lying on the floor

four stories high

in the corridor

between the asphalt and the sky

i am caught like bottled water

the light daughter

i wonder what you look like

under your t-shirt

i wonder what you sound like

when you're not wearing words

i wonder what we have

when we're not pretending

it's never-ending, haven't you heard?

i don't need to tell you

what this is about

you just start on the inside

and work your way out

we are all polylingual

but some of us pretend

there's virtue in relying

on not trying to understand

we're all citizens of the womb

before we subdivide

into sexes and shades

this side

that side

and i don't need to tell you

what this is about

you just start on the inside

and work your way out

undressing for the fan

like it was a man

wondering about all the things

that i'll never understand

there are some things that you can't know

unless you've been there

but oh how far we could go

if we started to share

i don't need to tell you

what it is about

you just start on the inside

you just start on the inside

and work your way out



Dog Coffee



perpetrating counter-culture she is walking through the park

first light ugly and more muscular than the dark

pushing poems at the urban silence

drawing portraits of the passers-by

sitting on the curb

combining traffic sounds

getting dirty looks and dirty jeans

on the dirty ground

she says i can't figure out what kind of life this is

comedy or tragedy i just know it's show biz

and what if i don't agree

with the lines i have to read

they don't pay me enough

the way i see it



freedom and democracy



that's the word from washington every day

the america's asleep

with warm milk and cliches

and people are expendable along the way

your dollar is dependable

what more can we say

would you like some dog coffee

it's all that we've got

you can have some

you can have not

would you like some dog coffee

it's all that we've got

we're taking care of big business

and meanwhile some of the beans rot



Lost Woman Song



i opened a bank account

when i was nine years old

i closed it when i was eighteen

i gave them every penny that i'd saved

and they gave my blood

and my urine

a number

now i'm sitting in this waiting room

playing with the toys

and i am here to exercise

my freedom of choice

i passed their handheld signs

went through their picket lines

they gathered when they saw me coming

they shouted when they saw me cross

i said why don't you go home

just leave me alone

i'm just another woman lost

you are like fish in the water

who don't know that they are wet

as far as i can tell

the world isn't perfect yet

his bored eyes were obscene

on his denim thighs a magazine

i wish he'd never come here with me

in fact i wish he'd never come near me

i wish his shoulder

wasn't touching mine

i am growing older

waiting in this line

some of life's best lessons

are learned at the worst times

under the fierce fluorescent

she offered her hand for me to hold

she offered stability and calm

and i was crushing her palm

through the pinch pull wincing

my smile unconvincing

on that sterile battlefield that sees

only casualties

never heroes

my heart hit absolute zero

lucille, your voice still sounds in me

mine was a relatively easy tragedy

now the profile of our country

looks a little less hard nosed

but that picket line persisted

and that clinic's since been closed

they keep pounding their fists on reality

hoping it will break

but i don't think there's a one of us

leads a life free of mistakes





Pale Purple



pale purple nipples

goose pimpled

she shivers shifts from a walk to a trot

alone in the city

infested with faces

immune to new friendships

interested in places she's never seen

she says everything is gray here

and nothing is green

the girls from down the street

sixteen, seventeen years old

you can smell them getting pregnant

you can hear their rock and roll

that's america

you have to be tough

like a glad trash bag

the government's an old nag

with a good pedigree

but pedigree's don't help you and me

i see the precedent is gray here

and nothing is green

unless something unforeseen happens

i'm surrounded by the haves

they say i can have some too

just because of what i do

do they think a lot

about those who have not

or does it just distract them

from what they do

most of us have gray

except for those who can pay

for green

i'm torn

i'm torn

rejecting outfits offered me

regretting things i've worn

when i was still playing roles

to fill holes

in my conception of who i am

you know, now i understand

it's not important to be defined

it's only important to use your time well

well time is something nobody can buy

and nobody can sell you

so don't let anybody tell you

they have the advantage

because all the gray people can say every day

doesn't mean anything

if your mind is green



pale purple nipples

goose pimpled

she shivers shifts from a walk to a trot

alone in the city

infested with faces

immune to new friendships

interested in places she's never seen

she says everything is gray here

otherwise i'd stay here

but i'm looking for green

just like every human being



Rush Hour



rush hour

and the day's dawning

the rain came

and pushed me under the awning

the puddles grew and threw themselves at me

with every passing car

i'm shielding my guitar

and there were some things that i

did not tell him

there were certain things

he did not need to know

and there were some days

when i did not love him

he didn't understand me

and i don't know why

i didn't go

he said change the channel

i've got problems of my own

i'm so sick of hearing about drugs

and aids

and people without homes

and i said, well,

i'd like to sympathize with that

but if you don't understand

then how can you act

i expected summer to be there in the morning

i woke to the alarm

but she was out of arms reach

sneaking out

on silent thighs

that were spent and sore

from the hot nights that came before

he said i looked for you

i don't know why

i said i was wearing black so you could

see me against the sky

take your big leather boots

and your buckles and your chains

put them on a downtown train

i expected he would be there in the morning

i awoke to the alarm

he was still in arm's reach

but his body was just a disguise

his mind had wandered off long ago

you see in his eyes

love isn't over when the sheets are stained

in my head there remains

so much left to be said

make me laugh, make me cry, enrage me

but just don't try to disengage me



Fire Door



i opened the fire door

to four lips

none of which were mine

kissing

tightened my belt around my hips

where your hands were missing

and stepped out into the cold

collar high

under the slate gray sky

the air was smoking and the streets were dry

and i wasn't joking when i said

good bye

magazine quality men talking on the corner

french, no less much less of them then us

so why do i feel like something's been rearranged?

you know, taken out of context i must seem so strange



killed a cockroach so big

it left a puddle of pus on the wall

when you and i are lying in bed

you don't seem so tall

i'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tired

and my brain is disconnected but my heart is wired

i make such a good statistic

someone should study me now

somebody's got to be interested in how i feel

just 'cause i'm here

and i'm real



oh, how i miss

substituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kiss

and oh, how i miss

walking up to the edge and jumping in

like i could feel the future on your skin

i opened the fire door

to four lips

none of which were mine

kissing



i opened the fire door





The Story



i would have returned your greeting

if it weren't for the way you were looking at me

this street is not a market

and i am not a commodity

don't you find it sad that we can't even say hello

'cause you're a man

and i'm a woman

and the sun is getting low

there are some places that i can't go

as a woman i can't go there

and as a person i don't care

i don't go for the hey baby what's your name

and i'd alone thank you

just the same



i am up again against

the skin of my guitar

in the window of my life

looking out through the bars

i am sounding out the silence

avoiding all the words

i'm afraid i've said too much

i'm afraid of who has heard me



my father, he told me the story

and it was true

for his time

but now the story's different

maybe i should tell him mine

all the girls line up here

all the boys on the other side

i see your ranks are advancing

i see mine are left behind



i am up again against

the skin of my guitar

in the window of my life

looking out through the bars

i am sounding out the silence

avoiding all the words

i'm afraid i can never say enough

i'm afraid no one has heard me



and despite all the balls that i've been thrown

and forced to drop

on the social totem pole

i'm preciously close to the top

they put you in your place

and they tell you to behave

but no one can be free

until we're all on even ground



and i would have returned your greeting

if it weren't for the way you were looking a





Every Angle





i'm imagining your frame

every angle

and every plane

i'm imagining your smell

the one that mingled with mine

once upon a time

thoughts of you

are picketing my brain

they refuse

to work such long hours without rest

in unstable conditions at best

they're out there every day

holding up there signs

and thoughts of no other man but you

could possibly get through

the picket lines

to enter into my mind



i'm imagining your laugh again

the one you save for your family

and your very

close

friends

i'm imagining the way you say my name

i don't know when

i'm going to hear it again

my friends can't tell

my laughter from my cries

someone tell this photograph of you

to let go of my eyes



i'm imagining your frame

i'm imagining your smell

i'm imagining your laugh again

and the way you say my name







Out Of Habit



the butter melts out of habit

the toast isn't even warm

the waitress and the man in the plaid shirt

play out a scene they've played

so many times before

i am watching the sun stumble home in the morning

from a bar on the east side of town

and the coffee is just water dressed in brown

beautiful but boring

he visited me yesterday

he noticed my fingers

and asked me if i would play

i didn't really care a lot

but i couldn't think of a reason why not

i said if you don't come any closer i don't mind if you stay

my thighs have been involved in many accidents

and now i can't get insured

and i don't need to be lured by you

my cunt is built like a wound that won't heal

and now you don't have to ask

because you know how i feel

you know how i feel



art is why i get up in the morning

but my definition ends there

and it doesn't seem fair

that i'm living for something i can't even define

there you are right there

in the meantime



i don't want to play for you anymore

show me what you can do

tell me what are you here for

i want my old friends

i want my old face

i want my old mind

fuck this time and place



the butter melts out of habit





Letting The Telephone Ring





i am letting the telephone ring

cause i don't want to know why

i don't want to hear you explain

i don't want to hear you cry

i have written so much about you

so much i thought i knew

words like water used to flow

now what could i possibly have to say?

she is someone i don't even know

and all the things that you've given to me

i see now were simply reparations

they were gifts of your guilt

they were my preparation

i know i should be mature

keep my feet on the floor

but for some reason,

i just don't want them anymore

i know this shouldn't be important

compared to you and i

but i can still hear my questions

and i can still hear you

i can still hear you

lie

now vicariously i have her in me

i want to peel off my skin

let the water wash in

you always said that i was hiding

that i was hiding from you

but you are capable of things i could not do

you are capable of things i could not do

i remember how you pretended

how you pretended to touch me

i remember how i couldn't bring myself to believe

i remember wondering,

what was wrong

what was wrong

how could i be so naive

how could i be so naive