IN BETWEEN

 

in between the in-and-the-out

in between the stop-and-the-go

the whisper the shout

a shoulder-forced entry

while eyeing the exit 

reason seek solace

the migrant regrets it

in between the in-and-the-out

I’m dancing like somebody’s

drunken reminder

my past or their future

such flypaper traps

keeps me hovered above

I don’t know what matters

I do know what loves

in perfect blood-splattered

space and time and anger and mold

rats and betrayal and centerfolds

those who beg mercy

those who are old

are the same are the game

of the lessons foretold

we don’t ever learn 

it’s a useless road

we don’t beg mercy we don’t share the load

rats and betrayal and centerfolds

sniff the lost, look for the found

beyond the cheese smile and the 

deathly confound

when we know that the worst

is within our grasp

then we know that deliverance

is a panic a curse

in between can be planning

a way out of the cask

red wine should flow freely

like blood from a gasp

I will never beg mercy

I will always ask

how to find the in-between

that safe place before

it all goes mean

shoulders are rolled

head thrown back

finding my way out of yearning

finding my way to the ask

 

2.20.16 nyc

PHOTO: Fenceline : Noctorum Lane : Oxton : Birkenhead : Wirral : 16:Dec:2024.

WOUNDED

I’ll walk among

the wounded

not for the pain

but the crazy

what’s left on remainder

a membership

in altered states

where I slip behind

purity gates

I’ll walk among the wounded

in a private country

no need to undo me

left behind from birth

for what that is worth

again and again

I will favor imbalance

life is so messy

like a ruffled valance

in an empty room

what do I choose

I’m a fake happily

in a real situation

and then painfully

when confronted

with creation

how do I manage

a lie over and over

I find the ones who know

when to discover

that water flows

that water will save us

the small in the earth

the deep in the well

I won’t beg for salvation

in a roomful of friends

or strip the lead

from the lip

pull the cork from revenge

life is imbalance

what I wish for is instant

what i get is

fame naturally

it comes from a distance

like a comforting film

arrives like a blister

a gift from the sun

I’ll walk among wounded

mystery’s sister

make me laugh now

make me sinister

be my friend through all winters

bind our feet together

trample enemies forever

walk among the wounded

discern the trust

walk among us

light footed

and make no fuss

9.27.13 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling Dancing Fire : Raby : Wirral : 12Dec:2024. Click on photo for full image.

 

BICYCLE

 

so justly proud

she having scaled

that penultimate hill

not nearly the behemoth

that lay at the top 

of the park still

to be ridden nonetheless

her bike a new thing

a new old thing

rewind and new wind

how proud he was

of her persistence

what made him

love her in the first place

she started 

slowly

building to the rush

walking when

riding was the intent

pushing her resistance

up a hill

or two or three

she counted them

by their curve

their steepness

the distance to the 

traffic light 

at the top of the hill

she swore allegiance

to the hills

each one, one at a time

and then she talked

to her bicycle

spoke in a whisper

at first

tried desperation and

that did not work

she planned then

after each revolution

how her ride

in the park would go

the monster at

the top of the park would be ridden

she became her own

cheerleader

hoarse after a ride

after awhile

it worked she understood

the road and dips and 

what hills

required

what will

and after awhile

when she felt she’d

managed the 

overture

a heatwave

undid her

brought her back to

struggle and contemplation

she faced the hill and

said you do not own me.

 

6.21.12 nyc

Photo: Central Park 12.11.24

 

CLOUDS

clouds are fatty

clouds are lean

clouds get mouthy

sometimes grin

rolling across answers

like mealy-mouthed transfers

clouds lie cunning

clouds lay low

clouds know secrets

often sins

when shit reveals sacred

when silence grows greater

clouds are honest

clouds are thieves

clouds live den-like

sometimes leave

miraculous letters

when whiskered is fail-safe

clouds are trusted

clouds stay banned

clouds are silent

underhand

in penance for nothing

for no ruined landscape

clouds are bone-free

clouds of the wand

clouds hallelujiah

undermined

what’s happening this time

when we refused the sign

5.25.21 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling Reprise : It's not unusual : Meols : Wirral : December 2023.

 

THE NEW

 

How grateful I am

For what I have lost

Things

That every sad stranger

Who knew bitter beauty

In the time of their lives

And the life of their time

Refuse to console me

 

What comfort I get

From what I have lost

Gravity

Light weight of memory

Breadcrumbs now blown

Halts a bitter return

To the time of my life closer to empathy

 

A free-range emotion

An organic heart

Clarity

Lies just out of my reach

Far but not futile

The antidote to speed

Toward the time of my life

Defuse melancholy

 

These moments of pleasure

Rip through the pain

This triumph of measure

For all things gained

Are mine for the taking

Mine to be strained into

Clear water basins

And lead me to ransom again and again                       

nyc 6.25.15

Photo:

Homemade elderberries

Are the best kind

Trust the elders who challenge the worried

Who question the juice of manufactured berries

Squashed like bugs

And tagged unrelenting

We can hardly lose to the ignorant

Coughs are the rugged cries of the resistance

Temperatures rise inflated by insistence

This is not a time for blind obedience

This is a time for ripened romance

The lure of the anarchist

Not so frightening in a handshake

Among the resistance

This is the time for brave berry picking

Noting the ripe and the bruised from living

Gathering for the inevitable 

The common great listening

It will come slowly free of insistence

When the hearts and the minds 

Coalesce in an earthquake

The planet gives up its right to tsunami

When the people wake up

When they are armed with

The love of themselves who speak with disarming

Of peace and enclosure

Respect and the disposal of war

Plant an elderberry or ten

Become human again.

Stop coughing. Note the scars

Bring nothing but change.

Pick elderberries and be brave again.

Be ready for the strange.

Go forth and bleed. Again and again.

It’s a star we possess in the end.

3.13.20

Photo: nyc UES 12.2.24

 

 DRUNK

I don’t sleep until I’ve drunk

all the wine to sea level

until I’ve come down

from the mountain 

alighted on a limb

I don’t sleep easily when

I refuse to give in 

secret lives make me hunger

for rare is the time

a story is realized

without the wine

when it comes, this sleep

this battle I’ve waged

silence reacts like

a dream uncaged

sober, I wake to what

the muse demands

sober, I write while

the cats eye the day

we miss you, they whine

in the creeping night

your drunken unburdening

your nail-biting ride

to a story you’ve

unearthed at the bottom of a glass 

while we sleep in the daylight

and you are free at last

a paw needs licking

a head needs kissing

the rule book’s in place

and as she ages

they give her the floor

write a story, they say

until you can’t anymore

we’ll carry on leaping in

late night intent

while you carry on making

your way to repent

tomorrow is always a fickle thing

bravado or Zen is challenging

the secret of life

are cows not so far 

from the writer

we trust or we don’t anymore

it’s the path we’d rather

a sober collective or

a bloody bother

I don’t sleep until 

I contact the courier

I don’t sleep until 

I drink the blood of the warrior

 

1.31.18 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling Walkin' the humans : Macdona Drive : West Kirby : Wirral : 20:Nov:2024.

 

AMONG US

what was less then

what was lost

what was found in

in our round table

was mostly future

among the cats and the wine

what we failed was the nurture

we traveled away

from the canvas the studio

we huddled too close

to the answer the obvious

I shed you

I did

for my own self worth

Sacrificed you for me

Still undecided

You touched the bottle

a reprimand to my flight

I understood

too late

too angry to fight

Amsterdam pulled the plug

Amsterdam was the flood

that lifted me over redeeming waters

I was young then and mostly drunk

I was young then

and mostly alone

you tracked how I flew

my singular path

Breakfast in Amsterdam

Breakfast was a drag

And I made a picture

of us in the round

Of us as artists underground

the basement the studio

I have never recovered

your sly criticisms

your tiny canvases of mirth

I am still here

That’s my singular birth

nyc

11.23.17

The Studio on East 85th Street. Early 70s. When we artists were a dedicated group of friends. Nothing lasts forever.

 I think of you

In the low moments

The space between torment.

I think of you

Like a list for the market.

I have that. Don’t need that

I must stock that soon.

I think of you

Eyeing that bloodline of

The red, red wine.

The glass like a broken marker

Of unsaid regret.

Coffee beans in Sambuca

Dark and perfect.

 

I think of you

I think of you

Fingers crippled into caves

Of unsure revenge

Covering the keyboard

Folded, dilated, saved.

Crossing the Rubicon.

Wearing the wrong shoes

For a miscalculation.

Does it count

When I am up late

Betraying those decisions

I made to choose.

 

I think of you in revisions.

I think of you

In stories once written.

The page like a nightmare

On its gentler way

Flying down slowly

To save a dark day.

Who makes the incisions

When friendship is torn

You think I’m wrong

I know

I know.

 

Does it matter

This blue unintentional

This sudden redeemable 

This this uneventual

Collision of disregard.

 

I think of you even now

Conniving inspiring rewiring

Despairing on cue.

Foolish me foolish you

I know

I know

It’s battle fatigue.

 

Embraced at the airport

Like long lost friends.

You left me no choice but

To choose in the end

The history of one over

Small angers of another.

I thought you were bigger.

I thought you were tougher.

 

I’ll miss you for now

Never forget your voice.

It’s stuck in our song.

You have no choice.

Make the most of your secrets

skulls piled under lampshades

Rugs pulled from the eaves

of regrettable he-said—she-said

Another conquest will come

In a while.

 

Be safe little monkey

Think longer and harder. 

Beware the pedestal

Reject the martyr.

Beware of the longing.

Remember the embrace.

Love yourself try harder or

You will lose the race.

 

I think of you often.

That will not be erased.

 

For Carmen, in space.

1.26.19