Tuesday, September 12, 2017


the dog walker
you fall in love
undeniably
keep your heart
in check
give her the best
you walk that
fine line terribly
for years…

Sunday, July 2, 2017


beyond in love with you
leaves me among the stars 
eaten by monsters
scrabbling for stories
before we know it
beyond in love with you
carries a briefcase of regret
stuffed with earnest unforget
that is still undecided
beyond in love with you
keeps me quiet in
the dark silent night
you have your job
and I have the dogfight
beyond in love with you
is the message I carved in
the still wet cement
never easy
never repent
you loved me before the
message hardens
I love you like a threatened garden
I am yours
you are mine
lost the rings on our fingers
found the heart stopping reminder
in a small place in Paris
understanding distress
I came to you in
combative redress
and you welcomed me
you welcomed me
beyond in love with you
that is all
that was then
this is now
no regrets

Sunday, June 18, 2017


























CLASS WAR
They die by fire
histories are built on
wishful origins
dead arise to become
another’s story
there are as many questions
as there are redemptions
that room at the top
is she one of
a family of five burned
now to the ground
what is lost in a fire
is this:
memory
sweet empathy
bloodless revolution
left behind is the
crafted solution
to memory and godless
Innocence burns
faster than guilt
spontaneous combustion
controlled revolution
what is lost in a fire
depends on the flame
birthday candles alight
again and again
like the magic
of coming from a
long line of nobodies
they die in a fire
they are our story
They die by water
cities are built on
wishful origins
assembly lines hum
another’s story
there are as many questions
as there are redemptions
that home at the top
is it one of
a family of five poisoned
by water unsound
what is drowned in neglect
is this:
memory
sweet empathy
bloodless revolution
left behind is the
crafted solution
to memory and godless
Innocence drowns
faster than guilt
spontaneous disruption
controlled revolution
what is lost when they drown
depends on water
prayer candles alight
again and again
like the magic
of coming from a
long line of nobodies
they die by poisoning
they are our story

Monday, May 22, 2017



DELIVERY
church basement
heart casement window
a family of five
slow motion crescendo
breaks onto seats
at the table I serve
fire pending
boy chasing questions
a family of five
much older descending
slower to speak
at the table I serve
life downward
hot chile with white rice
a family of five
small eyes seek repentance
slower to speak
at a table I serve
this father
man burdened with white lies
a family of five
smells history’s acceptance
slower to speak
at a table I serve
his eldest
eyes growing without life
a family of five
mourns passive resistance
unlearned today
at a table I serve
They come to it again and again
and again there’s no where or when
a family of five
my mantra my alive
in the deep sweet archive
at a table I serve

Monday, May 1, 2017



unfinished
you start out small
half baked undecided
the reverence you learn
complicates arrival
at your feet your head
your heart your denial
until you make a start
with an argument
a holler
then unwillingly wander
into a pen or a brush it
sweeps away all betrayal
you start out small
in your honest repair
one line or two
the masters you learned from
are laughing at you
these strokes
that you dare
this unspoken poetry
is easier than you think
so stop thinking and
be unfinished
for once and forever
dip the brush
draw the chalk
drag the oil through memory
your face is a story
still to be told
your face is the memory
the future unfold
unfinished is sanctity
unfinished is bold
unfinished is memory
unfinished is gold

Saturday, April 29, 2017


LISTS
for Scott Garrison

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

algorithms
inner cracking sound system
bleed me
bleed my
love or defeat me
I have met that person
I don’t do autographs
but I am up for the duration

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

patriotism
secret weapon stashed within
free me
free the
horse underneath me
riding wild to reason
to a place unaware
of the knee-buckling seasons we share

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

somnambulism
eyelids lowered to the scrim
teach me
teach the
heart that belies a
beating past of war cries
in the thin underneath
of the root killing history we know

people come
people go
lists remain
our blind farrago

Monday, April 17, 2017

this minefield of posts
under a curious step
explodes grief and joy

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

I don’t even know why 
I’m tethered to the word
I know what I like
I know what I hate
I know what bores me to tears
I know what annoys me
deploys me
underscores me
I know what has nothing to say
I know what you are
what I am this time
I know what will change
when the words
hit the rhyme
and the backbeat rebels me to fears
I may have forgotten
those words when
they meant
the stuff purely rotten
things I don’t say
when I want to play
the garden
when the beat was
uplifting
when the song was
a drifting on a Montauk sea
I know that you got
the challenge in me
like a clown on the wire
like surfboard on fire
like a man who knows when to
quit the desire
I love you beyond
the why
I love you here
on drunken denial
I love and music is our
special friend
I love you forever until our end

Friday, March 24, 2017


Glare

on an inkspot
an argument
trial by fingerprints

Glare

on a shadow
a sweat stain
tunnels through restraint

Glare

from decision
a revision
mistaken for benevolence

Glare

when the answer
reels up
smacks the heart with insistence

Glare

at the bottom of
the blood red glass
desk lamp the focus on the ask

Glare after all

Glare before fall

Glare when it ends

Glare will begin

Glare

like the poet said
in underground rhyme
this brutal heart with the hole is mine



Wednesday, February 15, 2017

For Nona See
bi·par·ti·san
bīˈpärdəzən/
adjective
of or involving the agreement or cooperation of two political parties that usually oppose each other's policies.
I bleed from a hole in my heart
like a child, like an angel,
like a bipartisan
who craves the abyss
who masters the stress
then decides
life or death
the first of us
who worshipped gods
fell to the sun
are we involved
are we on the run
my shoulder aches from
carrying the question
I’m not as old as the
place where I bleed from
the hole in my heart
the friendships I harbor
like a sailor, a poet, like an unformed artisan
who braves the remiss,
the memory
the bleeding
I worship the nods
to what is real
to the sand that irritates the blistered heel
that keeps trekking
over truth, dispute, death and divorce
and speeds to
the hole in my heart for
youth and regroup and
breathes a new force
I breathe down the hole of
a telephone line
I am yours we are them
you are mine
you are mine
that monkey that changa
that poem that reminder
love is a drug
and nothing is blind

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Mother
She sneaks up on me
and comes from places
I may regret
or rejoice or can’t shake
the noise of bottled memory
uncapped and spewing
a heart full of races
from her and to her and
then swiftly away
She sneaks up on me
in my familial stance
hands on hips
eyes lowered to see
who has harmed me
I cherish those times
when I had the chance
to mock her
to laugh and to
warn her I was
no easy target
She sneaks up on me
when I feel my hands
grasp my ample hips
and I tell her in memory
she no longer inhabits
the good in me
the mood that places
my hands on my hips
has no other reason
than to see at a distance
those recovery ships

Wednesday, January 18, 2017


WINGS
bleak bloody blindness and
the sharp cruel behindness
of things darkened in shade
expecting growth
in a sun gone waylaid
my notebook is waiting
like an Sherpa on Everest
give her direction
or she will crash first
now or never
doesn’t matter this time
she will plough on and then some
only anger will gnaw at
demeanor gone frolicksome
he died she died we all died
in frozen retainer
I had wings once
waxed and full of desire
my mother
my father
my sister on fire
a corrugated face
allows the rain to drip down
an unregulated race
stumbles to finish
the race to the crown
the most important word
is yes unless it is no
we are all the same humans
in our quest for desire
what we don’t get over
are the remains of the fire
earth is a stew
we may rise above
the pulse the breath
we are a bleak bloody blinded
discordant choir
the best people left
tell the stories round the campfire
surrounded by death
lift the mandolin
the harp
the fingers snapping
the heart
rules the space between things
soar now or dive
the heart only sings
drink until rules
change into wings

Sunday, November 27, 2016



Pollyanna space thrill
a cup full of wastrel
the finger lingers
hovers above the dyke
waters rise nonchalant
landlubbers are drunk
how do I stop it
this vitriol
this waste from the font
how do I cop to the
the fight and the pace
illuminated hate spills into Times Square
white rage
and the umbrage 
that will reverb like hot phlegm
it makes me see rage
it makes me see them
when, in my bunny slippers, robed and asleep
I choose to count warriors
instead of sheep
it’s a Pollyanna
thrill
I am in the first car
when it returns to the base
I’ll re-ride the black star
the cyclone hits again and again
I’m fucked if I lose
I’m fucked if I win
there you are
here I am
in the midst of a war
there you are
here I am

this is it so far

Wednesday, November 23, 2016



even then
uneven time
even then
the salted wound
even then
the men, the men
and the women were something to fear

even now
the memory post it
even now
given grace by a story
the knowing look
away from the stage
where you have chosen to be
where you will age

even then
uneven now
even then
departing gloom
even then
the men, the men

and the women are something to fear