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 Apr 14 From the ashes
ryn
The curtains will close,
only if we’ll allow it.

Not now…
Not at each darkened hour -
where the cycle of ticking hands
seem to wipe clean, the ash and dust
off the faces of every clock.

                     •••

When the curtains finally do close…
And a little too late…

May the drapery be large enough
to grant eternal peace
and enshroud all the bodies that lay

but not our eyes…


Our hearts…


Our resolve…
East River: The Many Calories in Water and Words**

this weighty obsession, counting the energy
consumed and disbursed,
to be lean but not mean,
traverses into its third year

a late start does not forgive
over Forty years of transgressions, that damage,
sustained and in part irreversible,
yet I awake this Sunday morn,
all quiet on the East Side front, observing the East River flows
on the surface, contented and uncontested,
strongly bound for faraway Oceans unknown, and it tickles my
imagination that the rain from the nearby Adirondack and Catskills mountains might soon be quenching thy flora, fauna and your parched throats, confirming and conforming our connection and threading our interwoven tapestries, our unified aqueduct, carrying
with more than poetic words, but poetic water!

this notion sustains in multiple manners, and I deep drink the calm and the power as if it were,
for it is,
a daily vitamin,
calorie free,
God  delivers

Delivering
us with
its contained and contentented potency,
to all
in equal dosage

and now the script finished,
the water imbibed,
this baptized, scripture loving
mind and body
as/is
wholly holy
refreshed,
as are we,
my friend

8:38AM
April 14, 2024
by the East River
with just myself. Lying in a red hammock
curled up under a cornflower sky, with a book
to read as a cardinal flies by.  Or walking
in the woods among the ferns and the trees

I find tranquility. The chattering song of
the jay, the stillness of a breaking day. Women are
critical and glib, drooling like babies wearing
a bib. Green- eyed and petty. Raining on me

like colored confetti. Friendship is overrated,
leaving me lonely and weighted. The babbling
of a brook I'll take than that of a woman. Time is
a gift not to squander. Thoughts are words

to sit and to ponder. Women spread them like
strawberry jam, rolling out of their mouths
like a broken dam. Like the sun and the moon
I'm a solitary man.
My mac has had one too many nervous breakdowns and is headed for the hospital this afternoon.  I expect to be without him for 2-3 days while they ream out all the boogey Men and Trojan Horses. I hope it doesn't take any longer. I'm uneasy when I'm away from HP. This is where all my dreams are safely stashed.  Please leave the light on for me.
If her eyes were
a street,
they would be a
dead end.
There wouldn't be
a sign.
And if I drove
into them,
all the promising
landscape
and stunning scenery
would come to
an abrupt stop.
Such lies...
Those
dead-end eyes.
"Eyes, the window to the soul"
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recent book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOkjvj7dhyk
See all those people
they're real, they
think, they
aren't mannequins.
I know this may come
as a surprise, but there
are other people in the world
with problems.
And by the way, the fact that
you can't find your tweezers
isn't a catastrophe.
Oh I know you need them to
perfect your eyebrows.
Just in case you forgot,
We are having a pandemic!
Oh, you want me to leave because
I make you uncomfortable.
Never mind, it is freezing out
and it's late at night, and I've nowhere to go.
Just a small reminder, we have a
two-year-old daughter, and I
have been helping you take care
of your son for eight years.
Oh, it's your house, and
it's not your job to put me up.
I wouldn't live with you if you paid me.
I had a place, but I gave it up when
you called me, crying and begging
for my help with the kids, because
you couldn't multi-task.
Ok, now I get why you got
rid of the mirrors in your house.
Even though you're a narcissist,
it's too painful for you to
see your vacant reptilian eyes
starring back at you.
Check out my you tube channel where I read poetry from my recent book, Seedy Town BluesCollected Poems, available on Amazon.com.
Here's a link to my you tube channel.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOkjvj7dhyk
I hold my
jaded angel
while she sleeps.
Her *** snug
against my groin.
I envision
her sanguine
grin while
she dreams of
domesticating me.
I can't believe
that I never noticed
how cute her mouth is.
It's amazing--I'm spellbound.
I want to nibble on
those lips.
The way she uses
her tongue to enunciate
certain words are sensual and
seductive.
I'm apathetic about
what she's reading.
But while I watch
her mischievous mouth move,
I hear Shakespeare's sonnets.
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recent book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems.
Hidden behind a wall of
stony thorns,
her horns
are unmistakable.
She smiles and tries
to hide them,
but they are
ridiculously obvious.
The damage is
terminal and savage.
And the pain
is undeniable.
Her forked tongue
pokes the tepid air
and searches for
silly,
trusting victims
Check out my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, and if you get time, here is a link to my youtube channel where I read my poetry.
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