Stony yet soft.
A two-edged sword.
Giving, taking.
Man's relentless disease
infiltrates the land
and swept into the creek,
leaving behind secrets,
tales, laughter, crying, pain
hidden beneath the creeks mud
Vomiting up stench
from years before
when the land was walked.
And w/o warning a
precious soul is tossed
onto the creeks stream.
Why?
We question the gentle
creek turned to rage and
relentlessly removing, destroying
all in it's path and a precious soul.
A sacrifice, a forgotten respect,
from years before waiting??
And we question.

The eloquence of the broken is
Incredibly eloquent; Hard men
Do cry when the truth is spoken
Time is once we were young; now
We are young still;  that is why we
Cry.  Then and now are One but are
Broken into past and present and our
Heart in two; our soul is given words
That pulse from our wounds like blood

For Barbara remembering you on one starry night; and
||PBS story about young people  going to Casa Susanna

There’s a famous town that does not exist
It’s in new York state in the Catskills.
It is name Agloe.
It’s a paper town.
Put on the map in an insignificant place.
To protect the mapmakers in 1925
from copyright infringement
By unauthorized reproduction of the map.
I followed a map once all the way to
a place that did not exist.
I travelled slowly to it
Mile by mile.
I loved the thought of living there.
I even fell in love with it.
But it turned out to be a paper heart.
Filling a space where the real heart
Should be it had no feelings or love
It was paper just to look like a heart
to outsiders like me.
So after all the tiring journey
to find it.
I found out It never existed.
Just like Agloe
On the old paper map.
But Agloe never
broke anyone’s real heart.

short story  i wrote in 11/1/2014*

Decomposing sewer rat- that's the smell that will always remind me of her.
A tow colored ponytail, pulled back tautly with the smallish bobby pins holding down her page bangs, would greet me every time I walked into the cafeteria at lunch. She was a new kid, a sophmore, and I didn't know her name. She sat alone by the big red painted double doors. Everyone in the school wanted to get out-  but she seemed to always be smiling. It was my second semester of senior year, after winter break, after weeks of seeing the same girl sitting alone and never seeing her hair down that I decided to finally sit down next to her. The way she ignored my varsity jacket was striking- though it was my older brother's, the football team's logo always seemed to impress new girls who didn't know any better. She just kept on eating her yogurt. And then she looked to her right. And she kept on smiling. 'Hello, and your name is...?'
'Mike,' I offered my hand. And you? She just said her name was J.
I took it but wasn't satisfied. She went on to tell me she was new, from Burlington, Vermont- that she hated Scarsdale. And the bell rung. I went home that night endlessly calculating what the J could've stood for- Jennifer? Jessica? June? Jessica had me by the heels and she held me upside down. It took me days and days and finally a week and finally even a month to convince June that we should see each other outside of school. And then it took me that night taking out the trash to find out that Jennifer lived three doors away from me in a huge limestone manor. Then it took me the next day to convince her that- hey- tomorrow is a Friday, why not do something?
June said yes, put her sweater sleeve to her hand. I read once in a European studies textbook that in Elizabethan playhouses, they would sell orange rinds in little tea bags for people to hold up to their noses- the smell of all the people who didn't know about washing was so nauseating. It was ten pm when she called me that night and told me her parents would be in the Catskills and she hadn't seen my parent's cars in our driveway- so why not go to the city?
I took it in careful consideration that lasted approximately 5 seconds. I said yes si and da in every language possible. Something told me to go with her. I thought of the way she always smiled whether it was wide or wan and I could hardly wait for Friday night at 10pm.
The next day we drove to the city in her Audi cabriolet. I played New Order- but we didn't get to the city in the time we expected. The woods seemed to go on to the tune of the Perfect Kiss.
But by Face Up, we were in the city. We'd parallel parked in front of some bar  and made our way around. Then halfway through the sidewalk she asked. "Can we ride the subway?" I nodded. I supposed a Vermont girl had never seen New York City anyways. We took the R train at Rector until the end of the line. Then we went home. After that day, She went home after she dropped me off. I didn't find out what J meant or was and then it took three days to see that Jessica's house was actually just a forest. There was no limestone. It felt real, the riding the R train and the music in our ears  and even the yogurt she had eaten. But it took the next morning to monday to see there had never been a girl named J and the table was empty. It hadn't been a dream but I had to wonder if it was even real. But the other day I was on my way to Lexington  and I had sworn to god i'd seen her on the rails- on the rails! I cried for help but everyone just stared. Then I grabbed my briefcase and decided to go home instead of work for the day.

I had received fortune of wealth
Yet in the dream I was still in good health
I had a Mansion high up in the Catskills of New York overlooking the Hudson River
Then had a summer home in Paris, France by a swan lake
It was breathtaking in a picture take
I would often sail on my yacht in some summers in the Hamptons on Long Island
It then would be travelling on my private jet and head over to Los Angeles to venture on Catalina Island
I would be lying on the beach getting a deep dark tan
The eye of riches of the sun at my command
Well, it was all a dream
My own imagination being a subconscious stream
All this happened while I was asleep
This was all in my memory to keep
At least I can dream
Being rich is what it might seem.