Juxtapose my thoughts hold close and dearly,
departed,
nearly an artist.
Recently started,
standing up to be counted,
but the fact is,
the numbers don’t add up.


Pull the rug from underneath my feet,
and i’ll feel at one with the ground.
my soles will meet the surface,
and the holes in the life i chose.
will be exposed to those I surround.


Mistakes repeated like a daily routine.
a habitual cycle,
ritual in virtue,
I never meant to hurt you,
but the aftershocks are oblivious to man made emotions,
you watch in retreat,
as I go full circle.




Meander through my mind,
for one final time, 

maybe mine will change yours,
like the course of a river,
after a natural disaster.




My time alone is golden,
selfishly spent,
a time to payback and repent,.
I wish that made sense,
I whispered again.


For heavens sakes,
when the levee breaks,
you might understand,
I’m scared of the sea,
but i’m lost on the land.

sycophantic poetry
im only here to please you
im only here to ease
this starvation of attention
my words are only
hollow messengers
that mean only
that im devoted
but when
im gone
who will turn you
into the poetry
that you dont understand

[holyoak]

The Day Lady Died**

It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
three days after Bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine
because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton  
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and I don’t know the people who will feed me

I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun  
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets  
in Ghana are doing these days
                                                        I go on to the bank
and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)  
doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life  
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine  
for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do  
think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or  
Brendan Behan’s new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres
of Genet, but I don’t, I stick with Verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness

and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE
Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and  
then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue  
and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and  
casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton
of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it

and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing

Sugar sand beaches reach the horizon
Water so far it is naught but a glimmer in the distance
Sitting in the warmth of that powder-like earth
The sun seems to set over a desert
Purple and pink in smoking swirls of Heaven
Sopping up the beauty in open pores
Ready to receive all that is offered
Watching the sun begin to slumber
As Luna's light begins to shine in bulbous splendor
The glimmer seems to twinkle as brightly as the stars as they awaken
Multiplying by the moment
Mesmerizing, as the lights seem to grow
The air changes, a little cooler now
The sand turns to black glass glistening in the moonlight
Slowly taking over the horizon
Watching the twinkling onyx reflect the night sky
Almost hypnotized by the melodic whisper
The only evidence of life within the breezeless air
As black meets gray, the warmth of the water glides further
Swallowing the shore inch by inch
Blanketing all as it comes upon its farthest outstretched reach
Bathing in the warmth of black water,
Stippled with the most brilliant twinkling reflections
Wrapped in the heat of the night
Consumed by the darkness, by the stars, by the very heat of the earth
Slowly, deliberately, the water rises
Basking in the beauty of a sea that came to greet all who care to notice
As the ripples and waves wash over the footprints
Erasing the day and birthing it anew
The moon smiles its bright smile
The sand swims by unseen
And the stars shine like the brightest diamonds
in the light of the moon

_

Upon this elevated perch I sit
Jagged rock and nature’s bleed
Looking out beyond my sight
Knees and hands of weathered seed

Straddling an outward view
Clinging tight to breathless cries
Clouds now form of smoky fill
Cracks evolve of southern skies

Down below the valley sleeps
Curtains closed and bolted doors
Green between the acreage spills
Crumbs are swept from hollow floors

When an anguished howl is heard
Bounding far and chilling wide
Makes me stand, unsure of foot
Destinations run and hide

Dark precedes a warning moon
When two eyes of crimson glare
Break the glass in shards of fear
As my aching eyes do stare

Razor quick and fired flames
Out of breath my thoughts to run
Lightening strikes at where I cringe
Burning skin of tortured sun

Death does come, but eyes still see
Weary as of this forlorn
Tattered dreams long past their prime
When deep beyond a reason born

Still I sit on broken stone
High above the slumbered lanes
So frightened of horizon’s fall
And the light delivered pains

Now many nights and many days
Have crawled amidst my destiny
For when embarks a moon so full
This anguished howl now heard is me

if,
could I love
          you more,
were possible....
would gravity survive?

or may the
earth dissolve, break into pieces,
in tremors
of a love so deep?

Or, may heaven part, angels sing so loud in
honors, god give a new Eden,
to us?

The usual crew down at Mary's Cafe,
Slurping coffee over hash browns and eggs,
Weather too nice now for comments.

Bill clears his throat to say the grass is getting long,
And the pastor was out mowing yesterday.
"I tried to get my old Sears mower running,
But no go," he griped. "Took it to the shop."

Tom cleared his throat and looked at Bill.
We all knew what was coming.
Tom prides himself in handy manning,
And waxes on and on to us poor fools.
"Did you clean the plug?"
"Was your filter clean?"

Bill was in the hot seat now,
And we were being entertained.
"I checked 'em both, that wasn't it,"
Said Bill. "It don't make sense,
'Cause it was running
When I put it in the shed last fall!"

Tom chortled then, an expert in his glee...
"Well, then it's obvious, Bill!
If it was running when you put it in the shed,
It's out of gas!"

At that point, I burned my mouth,
Spit hot coffee on my food, and gasped for air.
I wouldn't miss these breakfasts for the world.

Foggy days in absentia
Caught in the ripples of a memory
The sparkling bay laps the sand
Soaking in the love
Tanning in the brightness of a smile
Living behind closed eyes
Where the heart is full
And the soul lives with its mate
In that bliss, glowing red
That is where eternity continues
Bliss found in a gaze
Perfection in a kiss
sigh, foggy days in absentia