she was once his father’s lover 

rendered in a portrait unseen
nights like these
late and inky and full of spleen
she remembers frothy beginnings
she remembers the barbed wire ends
how distance will grow like mold on a tree
when she is expected to
remember free
when she has ejected false memory 
it arrives like a low-lying hawk in flight
how she took the boy to Coney on
the pirate ship ride
when he was smaller than she
childlike, eternal, funneled and frightened 
the fearful mother
what each woman is certain
she will always know
no matter the clutter of sons and daughters
or nothing to show
he was her son, her pirate in tow
until trapped like rats on a towering stage
she bellowed her anger
the two of them caged
take us down
take us down
she shouted from heights
a long silent ride from the island of mirth
that night in her rooms when they fell down to earth
together forever for what is worth
still determined he said
that grown up child of dissent
back to the past’s reality berth
but I am still determined he said to see you at your convenience 
let me know when, she said
let me know when it will work

 

8.20.22

nyc 

 

reservoir dreaming

answers lie deeper than time

waving not drowning

nyc 10.24.23

 

unbelonging

 

are you writing?

yes, and you?

I am, she said. How slowly is another story. 

 

it’s only broken glass and bullet holes

strewn across an asphalt jungle

bitter news of current wars

set upon by broken crows

 

unbelonging requires maps in multitudes

language shrill or under wraps 

the cunts who laugh at all the fuss

cleaning up comes after us

 

she likes her tea in a bath underwater

terrorists will sometimes surround her

content must be bigger than form

now that the dark gets in

 

there are things I think I don’t want to know

 

are you writing?

yes, and you?

I am, she said. How slowly is another story. 

nyc 10.3.23

 

 

flame

 

 

she’s a self-igniting moth

has been since fire was invented

gone up in flames 

only slower

than orange-robed men

lit a crowded town square

faster than a slow succession

 

she’s the open-hearted wrath

has been since no wars have ended

drowned by the noise

only louder

when frenzied birds laugh

under lamp post despair

louder than a bishop’s blessing 

 

she’s the best of sweet relief

has been since a rogue placenta

flooded with grief

sailing under

where embryos flew

across deserts mid-air

destined for the deepest cave-in

 

she’s the cover under dark

has been since a fresh reminder

pigeon-holed note

on a window

where harmed mothers clucked

over eggs that will never be raised.

 

nyc 7.14.23 

 

Sissyphuss

She has herself a little cry

Not one to flail like a fully opened lotus

You know those

Blossom bombs that float like scum on a pond

You know the

Messages implied in the end you are done

Crying

Absolving,

Redrawing

And crawling from

The craters of ignorance

The sewers of romance

Those untidy typos in ransom notes

She has herself a little cry

Amp turned up high in a freshly watered silence

You know those

Welcome sounds see regret at a second glance

You know the

Floundering denied in the race to be won

Sighing

Resolving

Deploying

And landing on

The haters of ignorance

The matters of romance

Those untidy typos in ransom notes

She has herself a little cry

Flight-blinded soul when the story is expanded

You know those

Wounded beats on the pulse of romance

You Know

Lapping

Un-trapping

Rejoining

To the bloody limb

The haters of ignorance

The matters of romance

Those untidy typos in ransom notes

Leftover wars

In fields unsown

Apologies gone to ruin

mothers we bemoan

everything that’s always been

everything hidden

amidst history in luxurious linen

The fucking aimless at the nonetheless stage

The Bidden

And the unforgiven

The haters of ignorance

The matters of romance

Those untidy typos in ransom notes

nyc 4.6.23