Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Lost Turn

Sometimes we expect too much from ourselves
Sometimes we expect too much from others
We look into the deepening crevices
We look into the heat of the sun
Beyond and between the spherical glows
Behind the wall of it all coming apart
Death is a ruler that measures the silence
Death is the cave that is sealed at the end of our dream.

Monday, January 8, 2018

Jack Boots, I Guess

The Statey pulled me over agin today
He looked down at me through the window
But I had become but a mirror reflection
He took out his ticket book
And began to wipe away the universe
We were floating in endless space
I looked at his feet which were gross
facsimiles of something????
"What are those?" I asked
He looked down past the steering wheel.
"I don't know...jack boots, I guess?"

I Heard It From The Grape, Man

I was out there looking at them looking at me
When, suddenly, from afar, a dank cloud

She then asked for the divorce, not of our marriage
This time the ducks were cold

The flies bundled up into fiber as the mask fell
Off the wall humor everywhere

You think you know, but then you don't know
And a street cleaner runs over your feet

All is forgiven and the saints hang up their coats
It is Christmas again on the aisle of death

There is a vineyard amongst my brain tissue
My hands had to dig their way out, wanting to strum

Along the corridors of my mandolin mind
Where all is forgiven when all is lost

Sal asked me to call his accountant for brevity
While the bald lady slaps me with her pocket book

Just another New York Monday lost on me again
They're hoping for rain in Albany

But the sewers are in rebellion again
They look into the mystic grape, a phallic totem

Of yesterdays gone wrong, but how could we know
That we, born into this whittled world to breathe

A dyers breath, will breathe again

Monday, March 28, 2016

Kinder Window

I see them arched and reflecting color
The absent minded ones who clown around
In the hallways of my mind
I can't always dig them out with balloon dialogue
That's ok, November never came this year
Sadness was just another symptom so we
Had to give up coffee again to get a sense
Of the ever expanding surroundings when
Clown puppets wrestle on the half baked porch
Light comes in through a kinder window
I bend out to greet you Ben Franklyn
And all is well. You help me pull in
The wash. I look at you and you me
We exchange pleasantries as we both
think it out loud "Hilarity"

Friday, March 4, 2016

Where I Wait Is Where I Am Waiting

A woman looking at her wrist watch sees it is time
And from this time all is beginning like some dirt
On a window frame that gets noticed only instantaneously
We worry about the polaroid and it's meaning
And from this time, all watch, see it is time
Like some dirt gets noticed, only it's meaning
Instantaneously we worry, all watch, see it is time
And from this beginning, a woman watches
Seeing is time noticed only instantaneously
We worry about time instantaneous as it goes

As it goes unnoticed we wait holding something
And from the beginning only it's meaning
All watches and noticing a window frame
From where she sits she can see the piazza
A rubble or an instantaneous babble or brook
Holding something ever in its measure while not knowing
The polaroid is being taken by a woman at a window
It is falling out of its camera another window
From another time it is framed closer
Where I wait where I am waiting for anything

Friday, January 29, 2016

Quatrains

Today, I rode in the street.
There was no blood to be found.
My EYE scoured the concrete
of the sidewalk where now I am bound.

Here, also, no blood to be found.
My sneakers will fill with sweat.
My hair is perfectly round.
I live my life on a bet.

This poem is not over yet.
Not even close.
I just decided to get my jaw reset.
My brain wants to be verbose.

Now I'm wearing pantyhose,
And I've changed my mind.
The end is very close.
It ends with this line.

They Have Told Us So

Behind the windows of the glass vaulted building
In the darkness that is always telling
Where silence is a golden halo
We might know what the peddler is selling

Where silence glows in golden rays
Behind winds that blow the blue air
They round up minutes of all our days
A blinding shadow at the top of the stair

Where rounded corners bend into night
They silence your most inner thoughts
And amplify the sound that is the light
And salvage all the flesh that rots

A blind shadow in a vaulted glass
Flesh that silence rounded top all blow golden