Women i love you for your boisterousness 
and softness too, harshest lighting
notwithstanding 

You are poems of poems of poems
in moonlight beneath crimson moons
encouraging mystery

Women your sanguinary allure holds
me never but your pernicious sorrows
are as captivating as ever

You are goddesses and ****** and archetypes
all the same from salon to Wal-Mart
to the Barnes up the Parkway to the Zoo

Wymyn you are ***** on bykes leather
lesbian jackets and caresses of chains
silent cervixes smattered and schmeared 

Ladies your parts are none of my business
and my love's too Western for that nonsense
but I wish them all good health and plumbing 

Listen sisters, allow me some gravy
for respecting the curvature without
ever needing to ride like Sally into orbit

Your ******* are thousands of temptations
to many men but I'm only enamoured
by your foreign policy experience

Women you know how to know what's what
and make yourselves muses and heroines 
perfecting heterosexual enchantment forever

Hey ladies let's be friends and not so secretly
plot for you to really start conquering the world,
ok?

Waiting 
to connect 
like pre-digital existence;
Always outside but wanting
in.

quiet dogged spring
emerging right as rain dims
translucent sorrow

Cheesesteaks and grimy streets
with a broken bell walled 'round by glass
over cobblestones trod weary feet
and love is born and hope is born

Strong fountains sweep in summer heat
sparks blaze in artful air at night
recalling every future song
when love is free and hope is free

Autumn ripeness sewed the flag
lofting parchment highly penned
before Billy ever stared us down
til love became and hope became

Cold souls all hunched in grand salons
broadly fluttered civil strifes
two hundred years were faded long
but love remained and hope remained

Reborn of blossoms freeing most
Who stretch on Spring Garden to South
And tumble past down to Navy Yard
until love grows until hope grows

Once wise as Ben struck under tree
If ever Delaware George had crossed
—If this Republic we can keep—
it’ll've been by love and a little hope.

beautiful humans
reality's interlocutors
ever presencing

Soft flakes are held aloft while drifting down
to keep those splendid structures quite intact;
Then up from pavement–piling on firm ground–
they halt all urban bustle in its tracks;
Strong plows have tried their best to push snow back,
but once this weather starts I’ve lost control;
It’s time to settle in, hear branches crack
and with my quilts and ***** I'll fight the cold.
How odd that every day has such a hold,
hurling the musts and shoulds with all its might,
until those tiny flakes conspire to scold
nice days for their mad toil and grant respite:
Sometimes it takes the ice and slush outside
to truly feel the warmth from which I hide.

There’s an uneven contempt for hipsters
–those ephemeral horn-rimmed misters–
who gallup through life
quite undaunted by strife
peddling style to both monsters & tricksters