COLORS

She wrote on the excess of daffodils.

Her thoughts were equally excessive.

They discussed the situation.

She wrote yellow thoughts

yellow loves

yellow inhibitions

and yellow anger.

The answers flew by in glorious black.

nyc 3.26.76

never cross the moon

it will not work out

praying and bathing and

worship and shit

that won’t get you moon cred

think:

hello moon how are you doing

put your hand out

don’t expect moon to take it

there are no hands

you knew I would say that

never cross the moon

benevolent sod

kneeling and swaying and

chanting out loud

the things that you miss most

think:

hello moon not planet nor star

you rise you fall

to yourself she’s indebted

she has no plan

you knew I would say that

never cross the moon

handsome lunarettes

marching and twirling and

placing small bets

whatever you ghost now

think:

wake up moon I know who you are

she kneads the call

like the dough she’s regretted

she’s lousy with plan

you knew I would say that

never cross the moon

wearing sensible shoes

7.10.21

nyc

Photo: REZ nyc 2.17.2025

 

wander

into a pen or a brush 

sweep 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 

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 unfolds

unfinished is sanctity

unfinished is bold

unfinished is memory

unfinished is gold

 

5.1.17 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling Sundown at Thurstaston Slipway : Wirral : 17:Feb:2025.

 

russian river valley

sonoma county

pinot noir

 

you are here in underdressed stories

crimeless passions of the lone
ly

among a live human choir

you are here to rectify coyness

 

you here for the judged

you here for the mulching

you here to remind him

writing is vengeful reminders of love

writing is something to witness

flown like the wind 

an unharnessed forgiveness of sin

 

you are lacquered with golden reminders

useless rations in the cupboard 

wedged between the writer’s lies

you are here to stamp out forgiveness

you are here to put out the humorless lies

you are here to touch the forgiven

you are here to witness denial

 

tramping across the

russian river valley

sonoma county

pinot noir

 

for your underdressed love of freedom

countries you have never ravaged

he went there for the love

he went there for moments

he lacquered dreams of old glory, impaled

he risked nothing new on the grand scheme of things

 

russian river valley

sonoma county

pinot noir

 

an undermined noise

better than bee stings

 

nyc 9.7.23

photo: Doggo 2.26.202

 

NORTHERN LIGHTS 

 

urban cliff dweller am I

with the soul of a hermit

searching the light
in an alien sky
I’ve been warned of the storms
considered regret
I wander in restless
celestial deterrent
sit at my desk
and wonder what’s next

I pound keys into stars

words land uneasily
the rest of my scars

are stories told freely
I wanted to witness
that unearthly glow

cramped as I am here

in darkness below

the cat creeps beside me

his eyes all aglow

what more do I need
what more can I know

evil is written in stone
and in snow

in rivers that rage
deserts I don’t know 

urban cliff dweller am I

with the soul of a hermit

searching the light
in an alien sky
I am home with my light

my river that flows

my witness to self that

continues to grow
my desert that kills

each passing word

I live by the light of
unknown northern night

I wonder what’s next

shall I stay shall I fly

I wonder what’s next in

my northern light

 

3.18.15

nyvc

Photo: 2.12.25

UES Kitchen

PHOTO:

Tim Tapling Reflections : Thurstaston : Wirral : 07:Feb:2025.

when wandering in poetic gloom

me with my penchant for 

comments uncalled for

me with my trek through truth-raking ruin

me with a fathomless distrust of 

small birds in a room

finches have gathered in a field of thistles

little birds fuck in the shadow of eagles

they are lovely no doubt

their feathers of hope

the eagle the hawk the falcon of nope

starlings are chunky in nature she says

invaders more like 

armored wingspread today

for the entitled right to belong to somebody

when rightful wounds mended unsung is okay

a long-term cornering has begun with me

with an abstract bag of poetry

lines unaccounted for as long as it takes

it is me the raker

it is i who rakes