Saturday, June 25, 2016

the cat laid her head in the palm of my hand
I was nervous and undecided
sirens had been sailing for days
in the street below my window
manholes exploded
across a sea of fucking humanity
and I stopped to reflect
and moped like a sad drunk
in an ocean of insanity
what makes us, I wailed
what takes us far and afield
what owns us, I wept
this gravestone and how is it sealed
I am lonely sometimes
I whispered to the cat
her head on my open palm
I am lonely and glad to be in this dark cave
her head in the palm of my hand
my step on the ocean
my step on the wave
my eye on the carnival
my heart gone to seed
I write like a farmer
up ending the bones
I write for a cat
in my upturned palm

Friday, June 17, 2016


where is that impish grin
when the big light goes off at night
how does the light slip in
for the curious and the frightful
it goes to me your daughter
who could only guess
that your laughter was
my chance to address every
in-between that you taught me
the dark and unknowing
exploded like chestnuts
at holiday’s undoing
when we wished for everything
and got only time
to discover again snug under a cap
an eye full of questions
a small boy’s chin
caught forever for me
in an old photograph
your thwarted intention
that impish grin
the big light’s turned on
you are in my heart now
that murmur, that missed beat
that impish grin

Friday, June 3, 2016

what grew me

February 25th, 1964
dad in his sorrowful mode
a night like every other night
in the projects where men
check their gloom
my father my hero
alone in the living room
me, in the kitchen
learning to fly
when a man who is beaten
slumps angry and eaten
by what he thought
he might become by chance
or hard work if he tried
until the day he died
alone and resembling
the rumbled and cursed
that day Clay became Ali
our carpet in the projects
was linoleum and free
I stood under the shelf
silent in the kitchen
where the radio was housed
quiet as a mouse
my hero my dad
was grumbling and lost
I cheered in silence
for the man who said NO
I took on my roots
I began to grow in the way
I had done since birth, since impression
I bent to the win
I learned silent  aggression
works wonders when honored
and renewed my lifelong affection for wonder
cheering the man
who fought to be free
of war that enslaves us
that black men and white men will dance
for the masters to ponder
I learned to float like a butterfly
and sting like a bee