Tuesday, October 16, 2012
of courses
black horse, backhoes,
black shoes, of course - that’s it.
two pair under my chair where
i leave pairs there.
put one on, shoe that is;
being too literal, i need take care;
then reached under the chair
for the other.
could tell you i retrieved
another right shoe discreetly
tried to put that on, but, come on,
literal is not stupid, completely.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
is not rain
is not rain
only for babies
like damp diapers
inconvenient, perhaps
this day will not slow
roll out your thunder
then push on it
food good for make strong
see this day grey
i hello you
cover from water falling
is enough, is so
open, heavens above, come on
not holding back
do as i know you can
give me all your thunder
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
coping
as the small bangladeshi and tall senegali
simultaneously squeeze departed
i tapped a shoulder; she half-nodded,
and took the inside window seat.
packed we were in fine october rush morning,
rolling slowly in traffic congestion
amid calm low voices and little movement
the girl, now seated next to me in the final row,
wearing an elaborate blue with white
lightening designs on a headset,
privatized from the throng;
when further, from the depths of her large purse
deftly extracted a tiny round compact,
opened it
and peering into the mirror
on the pretense of inspecting her eye,
i in a glance observed
as she melt-glided
swift deep away beyond time borders
into private mirage eternity.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
the buffalo
some rainy, foggy, chilly midweek
when secretaries call in sick
and postmen wear goulashes
go to the zoo and take in what’s left
splash along the water-covered concrete
past occasional trees bent, looking away
from the wind’s lick
see the muddy, mucky, peanut-shelled patch
where there stands the buffalo
knee-deep, with dirty, unkempt, matted hair
his eyelids closing out the drizzle
shoulders that held up america
clothed the indians in a montana mountain snow
fed starving wagoneers not quite to the promised land
mark of the plains
symbol of an era
it is fitting that he be visited
for his eyelids are closing now, america
and postmen wear goulashes
go to the zoo and take in what’s left
splash along the water-covered concrete
past occasional trees bent, looking away
from the wind’s lick
see the muddy, mucky, peanut-shelled patch
where there stands the buffalo
knee-deep, with dirty, unkempt, matted hair
his eyelids closing out the drizzle
shoulders that held up america
clothed the indians in a montana mountain snow
fed starving wagoneers not quite to the promised land
mark of the plains
symbol of an era
it is fitting that he be visited
for his eyelids are closing now, america
Thursday, August 30, 2012
day lilly
they only last a day she said
as she picked the fading
flower
some of them probably think they'll go on forever
like some people think they do
sun to sun
got'ta have fun
sun to sun
see how they run
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
the man in the moon
what you expect when
you look up.
to home of the big
shiny
in what is otherwise dark,
nearly black, but
yeah
there’s color and i’m an artist, even we,
including Michelangelo Buonarroti who didn’t pump
red like blood under the sculpted fine Tuscan
Carrara marble skin of
the Pieta -
the Madonna and dead
Christ,
have a tendency to round things off.
like i‘s saying, it was dark,
the pale moon bright
near white
or there abouts.
and low you have it
creeped down on the side is the face
as drawn in olden times, in antique mysterious hue
as per the season, moisture content in the air,
time of night, cloud drift in the way, all of the above
come together, perfect, scary and complete;
needed only dreadful music, wind blowing
and black cat
leaping, shrieking, but this is life
not hollywood remembers, not even a mouse
so, that’s how it goes
and went leaving
an impression on my mind;
like an inside job wall brain stencil.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
the air that i breathe
the air that i breath
thankful i am for the invention
and skies above
another fine intention
ground to walk on
amid the clutter of people
in city hub bub
seemingly without direction
as birds soar above
fish swim the sea
waters rain upon us
streams flow
frogs jump,
nearly hidden cats lurking, see all
here, where we can, on good days,
nap in the sun
Monday, August 13, 2012
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
columbus nimbus
columbus nimbus
first day this year in our skies
only one sky, really, but could have been fifty,
seems years since i’ve seen them like this
bursting, flaming red,orange,yellow, early morning gold
combined in rolling dough balls - like inflated balloons
over clowns and
jugglers in the big new York city parade,
twisting, changing shapes as i watched;
the ropes holding
them were city wires on poles
so they weren’t tied in the sky, just added flavor.
fat, wonderful
cartoon characters
sun- lit, puffy tumblers, changing shape; practically on fire,
background blue sky patches, white clouds too,
oh, my, yes.
love divine, so fine,
all mine.
mornings like this do take me along.
Friday, August 03, 2012
of time
what is time, the time, anytime?
a second is not a heartbeat
or a blink
for elephants, people, whales nor canaries.
suppose seconds were
made too quick or slow,
then we really never know
what time it is.
days and nights you can bet on,
you see it light
or dark;
but right about the time, are we?
how can seconds tick the same
when winter days are shorter
and summer days are longer.
yet different at the
poles, you know,
depending on the time of year.
(there is time again, the walking shadow)
the world not
perfectly round in shape or orbit, spinning,
leaning.
as much as we depend on them
clocks are overvalued and underdeveloped.
when this world agrees on little,
who declares what is an hour; how many in a day,
a month, in a year?
and everyone shaking heads in agreement?
convenient, for sure, but is it true?
while baseball is something
you can depend on,
of that there is no doubt,
no matter how quick or slowly it goes -
three strikes and you’re
out.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
friendliness of the sun
there is friendliness of the sun
when mornings parting clouds,
pouring in the window,
a glowing yellow beam,
leaning the same spot
on the wall
feeling the floor,
slowly stretching like a cat
shifting as the hours pass
until gone from east window glass
doing sky work for the day, then back again
wakeup time tomorrow
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