There's a light on my front porch
that comes on when I open the door at night.
I step outside to light a cigarette and
stand there under the bulb
watching the bushes move
with the wind and the scurrying of
little lizards.

But if I stand really still,
the light goes off and
for a few moments, I can disappear.
I can still hear the crickets and
a few cars in the distance, but
it's disembodied sound.

It's quiet. Dark. Far removed from
the reality illuminated by the sun
during the day and the sensor light
on the front porch at night.

I focus all my energy on
keeping my movements small, controlled.
The slight rise and fall of my chest as
I breathe. The modest shuffle of my
feet as I shift my weight from one
side to the other.

My thoughts are completely occupied
with making sure I stay invisible.
Reality exists only in the glow
of that wretched porch light.

But eventually, I feel the heat between my
fingers, jolting me back to an existence
where I have worries greater than
making sure I stay absolutely still.

"**** dresses,
I'm a tomboy!"
as she rubs blush
on her cheek bones.
Covering up the
insecurities
from the boy
last week.

Behind two obsidian pools of vast nothingness.
Staring at sky behind broken street lights.
Back against the ground, head in the clouds.
Water stained cigarette truly bobbing about.

"I would like to say my life is built on lies, it's not"
Idolizing villains though i'll always be a "hero".
"Ashamed of honor, for I've never been without".
Grass-is-greener sort of things.

Liquid gold drench my skin from rays of honey love
Feeling the warmth of pure golden hit my face
These are the days of summer
These are the days we crave
Stretched out I see my fingertips raised to the heavens
As my eyes seek shelter in the brightness of the morn
Can feel my body healing from the cold winters fury
Feel the calming of the storm
These are the days of summer
These are the days we crave
Pillowed clouds hover yet not daring to spoil the day
Shapeless yet so dangerous they float along
Ready for the winter ready for the call
Summer splash me with your rays of sun
Wet me till I'm dry
Heal those winter blues inside
Leave me ...Summer cry

for months we grew in knowledge and in love,
through loving--leaving--loving, holding still,
always both snarling wolves and cooing doves,
both love and anger rendered my heart ill,

i bid her fond farewell but for a spell,
to clear the mind and cleanse the ailing heart,
i asked, please wait, yet if you can't, be well,
and find a good man, make a brand new start,

i watch her from my secret distant place,
her growing closeness to a man i chose,
my blessing sits half-twisted in my face,
both wishing well and not, to what now grows,

though bluntly wrong for me i so adore,
the one i've loved for months behind my door

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

In the morning
before the day gets too distracting
your piano’s at its very best.
 
Say Hello! to it with a scale or two.
Nothing quite like the harmonic minor
(in contrary motion – 3 octaves please)
to get its hammers hammering,
the pedals pedalling, and those
black and white keys
to skip under your fingers.
 
Bach today or shall it be Brahms?
Gershwin maybe, or just a little Grieg?
No matter what, they’re all your friends.
Nice people composers, no trouble to anyone.
All they do all day is sit in their studios
and dream about music.
Sometimes they write it down,
​carefully,
measuring every note and rhythm
​for your piano to play
before the day gets too distracting.