For Joshua Haines

Thanks for the invite kid,
but I am bulky enough
and don't need your weight
to carry

**** good writer
you are,
not a concede,
not an aiming to please,
"just the facts, ma'am"

not even twenty one
commander of the ship from
a mooring slipped,
a poetic trip well-begun

but

     *Follow for Follow?

no babe,
passing dude,
passed that point
of no purposed-return,
trading points and
placing my self worth
on a scale of followers,
or ranted counts of page views

I  may read you
cause write quite nicely,
but I don't inflate
nobody's ego,
for their own fake sake

counting false gods
got my people forty years
of desert wandering,
after 400 years of penal servitude,
so I have done my hard time,
for that exact crime

Whew!
That felt good!

you must of got me confused
with another whew

I was young once
till very recently,
even tho I am
four decades plus
you senior

so here is my story,

don't swap spit or follows,

or likes for show,
those who have my heart,
have my words freely

my audience is the sun,
my numerology glorious,
the blades of green beneath
my rabbits happy bunny dancing,
for every verse pleasured

those I count on,
ask not,
for they like me for the who in my poetry,
knowing fullness and well,
mine is theirs,
no need to trade favors

I will read your words,
but not for you,
but for them,
the best part
of the best of you

Let us together,
think about that...
and if ever there were a blade upon to fall,
this notion is both sharp,
and the map to freedom

good luck to us both...

Cold beer,
a long necked bottle held to my forehead
and in my throat,
to my lips,
so relief comes both ways,
glad for it,
the double of the cool,
helps the day of troubled nothingness,
and the long necked bottle makes it
worth the extra second of anticipated tasty wait

can't drink in the river park,
don't cotton to brown paper bags,
do it anyway cause the East River
tides me over on its way
thru the Verrazano Narrows,
bound for the Atlantic with me low rider spirit in tow,
a devil may care attitude en contrôle

this troubadour opened the store at 700am
but not a one came looking for a song,
but the mail came reliable,
with dues due,
promises that need keeping,
and other items,
what the grownups call responsibilities

June Monday early eve and the Moran tugboats
ply their trade like reliable ****** to the sailors,
and their larger than bathtub size toys,
turning containers, freighters, into docile boys
who do as they are told on their way to ports far

there are stick figures outlined on the hexagon
paving stones that are so nyc for me,
here pedestrian! follow your designated path
here pedestrian, you must walk to be safe arrived

but I take to the railing,
where  Isaac-bound and mesmerized,
I imagine surfing the churning wakes on the surface
of the riveting tides and wonderous wanderlust for
where we are bound...

no voice heard from the heavens,
saying Abraham put down that knife,
because I have not passed the test of true belief,
perhaps the river's invitation is my test,
if I should sing another song here,
perhaps it will tale the end of this tell...