Where are you going and why are you going there
What is it that’s happening, and why do you care

Why do you go, what is the purpose of your quest
Too, the mysteries of love and compassion, be blessed

Or to bear witness to a life,  that was put to death, yet forgave
While you were not there, you ran away; your life to save

By persecution and fear, your faith you spurned
yet, in the caverns of your mind, it still burned

Your servitude, put in question by your cowardice
Is rewarded only, when you realize, you are powerless

Returning there now, that you’ve been confronted
To spread the word, while being pursued and hunted

Now, why do you go, and of what do you speak
To your death Peter, for those words we all seek
BOEMS BY JA 590

It's your voice that I woke up to,
drunken and low,
like a purr of the engine.

You tell me about this girl,
I've never heard you describe anyone like her before,
Nor have I heard you drunk.

She's the answer to your riddles,
the aches in your melody,
the voice you hear in your dreams.

You never told me her name,
And I'd be lying if I didn't say,
**I wanted her to be me.

As the water birds lifted from the morning tide,
I found myself being lifted from an unconscious
state to the dictionary by four unfamiliar syllables

like the many poets before me, searching for
the meaning of nomenclature. Interestingly enough,
it could have been me on the other side of a poem

that I would come back to after sundown: an old,
scientific word who first appeared in 1610,
whose roots grew, naturally, like the hidden

interests of a loved one, from the Latin
nomenclatura (the assigning of names).

But instead, I ended up on this side of the poem,
sitting before an empty screen and a dictionary
in a Yankees ball cap and denim t-shirt, slowly

piecing together a poem about a 17th century novel
while trying to include the sudden interest of my
loved one: French parenting literature on healthy

eating, all while slowly tying the loose ends
of a poem without meaning together.

You were fourteen in Dr. A.’s class
when on that day you proclaimed
to have learned nothing and on that
day Dr. A. held no doctorate degree.

You were fourteen in Dr. A.’s class
when bodies: sick, overweight, in-shape
fell from buildings and into to TV screens
into history books, only to be stuck forever

in a New York newsreel in their Tuesday
outfits with Monday night’s love and touch
brewing, aged and earthy, from their falling
lives. If you listen closely on the eve of this day

the wind still whispers their scent of perfume
trails, still whispers what really happened
that busy day in the clouds, in the sky.
I was ten and can’t recall where I was

or in whose company but like the waters
stretched between Europe, Africa, and the
America’s, I was (am) far removed, was (am)
still putting together the blue-black lineage

of my triangular history that drowned
in the salty waters stretched, flowing
between three continents. But fifteen
years later, we (you and I) have overcome

the billowing black clouds of Tuesdays
the Monday night upsets, and the routed
maritime of our ancestors. 15 years later
you are still alive with your blue eyes

and clear face, are still four years my senior
are still my guiding light and sight of sun.

After the 24th revolution of the longhand
on the clock, the radio plays bossa nova jazz
all night and me, I sit awake in an empty
studio replaying the day in my head as I

row alone across the lake of my notebook
as some now-deceased artist sings about
a 17-year old girl living on Montenegro St.
as beads of moonlight drip from the blade

of the paddle back into the lake as my arms
push and pull and push and pause mid-row
to catch the rhythm and blues of solitude.

You always give me love
But I'm hostile towards you

You always trust in me
But I'm clueless what to do

You tell everyone I'm a gentleman
But I've never held the door

You tell everyone I'm a hero
But I've never been to war

You say I make you happy
But I only see you frown

You say I lift you up
But I only let you down

You think that I'm a man
But a man I'll never be

Why do you think I'm always scared
When you believe in me?

Under stars
With eyes that brightly shine
I was yours
And you were mine

Summer days
That never seemed to end
Were numbered days
Too few to spend

When the heart breaks
When the soul aches
When the love is gone

Then where do we belong?

The way to love
A path we couldn't find
A twisted maze
Too tangled to unwind

But our waves found
Each others empty shores
Footprints marked
Once lonely bedroom floors

When the heart breaks
When the soul aches
When the love is gone

Then where do we belong?

Under stars
With eyes that brightly shine
I was yours
And you were mine

One more night
We only just pretend
That autumns breeze
Won't mean the summers end

Whatever it takes
Whatever fate makes
If we just hang on

I'll stand at hell's gate
Carry the weight
If we just stay strong

And if the heart breaks
If the soul aches
If the love is gone

Tell me where do we belong?

Can you feel the nostalgia in the air? Like someone lit off a firecracker in the back of your head and suddenly, time stops. There's an urgent whisper to the wind. And I swear it feels like the way you smile. Do you get it? It's warm. And true. There's a feeling to it that I thought I could never feel again. But I see it in the way you walk into the room. The way the cigarettes disappear out of my pack and I'm left with the upside down one. And I'm okay with it. I feel like I'm with you. Even when I'm not. And while everyone is looking at the moon hoping that someone is seeing what they see and wishing for what they want, I'm sitting on my porch watching my dog howl at the moon while the smoke howls at the wind. It's an exchange you see. There is nothing about it that doesn't seem worth it if it brings me closer to you. If maybe my wish could come true.

Soft wind, tender neck
Kissing lips once pressed

Sky black, universe unfolds
Light beyond reach tonight

Train tracks, quiet sorrow
Silence reveals hallow heart

Lush meadow, abandoned field
Laying on lonely tracks

Past bloom, flower fade
Heart tearing out name

Erase memories, take wind
Midnight train goodbye sin