I like the color of your sweater and the stripes on your sleeves and I especially like how the ends fray and the gray looks more like milk than it does a rainy day sky or a weatherbeaten road.

2. The reason I stepped back was not because you smelled funny, or that I was shocked to find you there, but because the air condition was hitting me right on the shoulders and I left my red sweater at home.

3. Okay, so maybe I was a bit shocked at finding you there; it’s just that you’re the first one who’s ever bothered lingering at the poetry section besides me, and I’m not good with surprises; in fact, I hate surprises.

4. But you’re a good kind of surprise.

5. I like your glasses. I used to have a pair just like them before someone removed them and told me that I should learn to see differently. Things have been kind of unclear since then, but I’m learning how to hold onto the side rails.

6. I hope you’ll let me remove yours, too.

7. Your hair looks like a bird’s nest. I wonder if you’re hiding life or pieces of green bottle in there. That’s a lovely shade of brown, by the way. I’ve never seen chocolate curls before.

8. Do you think that if a pine wants to, it will grow until its branches poke holes in the sky for stars and pinecones to fall out so we can catch them in our palms and compare who got the most scratches and who caught the most stardust?

9. The book you picked up happens to be my favorite. If you turn to page 118 you’ll find a poem about churning seas, angry thunderclouds, and a drifting boat that lost its sail.

10. I think I finally found my sail.

Daves trowel has a hickory handle,
With a blade thats broader than most,
It could cover the **** of a Tipperary mare
Going down to the Steeplechase post.

I spin it around in my palm,
the trowel . . . not the horse,
Its old, from a bygone age,
When skill was the poor brother of force.

Now its weatherbeaten and corroded,
Every cut and nick still lingers,
Daves trowel shines as bright as day,
Im talking about my fingers.

It is numbing to stare at the ground,
seeing nothing but my own weatherbeaten ankles
each footprint evidence of steps half-taken
in between neckbreaking pausing
to squint at starless skies.

But where there is water,
there is life
and maybe, just maybe,
maps are of no use here.

As the dust settles in
On the coffee table,
I smile.

The rising sun
Elusive and innocent

Illuminates their faces as they sleep:

My brother-
All stubborn scowls
And groans.

My father-
Weatherbeaten and wizened.

My mother-
Pining and tired.

Youthful shadows creep into our home
On tiptoe,
Grinning impishly.

Barefoot, I greet them.

Your door
was always
open -

this time,
I entered
from the weatherbeaten
steppes
of my non-being

never to leave
again.

I'd like to think otherwise
but this ship is aimlessly afloat,
maybe her sails do whip higher
and her anchor does cast deeper
but when being stretched both ways
where does that leave her?

Port and starboard
have never looked more the same
but this ship is still starbound,
still hopes to anchor herself to the moon,
still keeps her crow's nest
a little weatherbeaten, but with better navigation
more aimless than she'd like, but still afloat
not sure where she's going, but still she runs
never seen it before, but she knows it's North
oh, she knows. now she knows.

Oysters they're out there - somewhere,
Everywhere,
as the oyster men slowly drift through the inlet.
Heaved by sail and oar;
sinews of sheets and sails stretched.

Driven by hope and anticipation
the patina of time etched in weatherbeaten faces;
Like a lure for life the longline stretches and dredges, expectant evermore.

Drifting from catch to catch where the ardent prosper;
Achieve and believe the addiction and alchemy of the aspirant,
"Dream big" of the world the unenviable oyster of youth,
Dictums of the desirous drifting from goal to goal,
and chore to chore.

Mantras of men mourning forgone missives of the masculine.
The dredges of disconnected men's minds to sea.
Destined for despair.

I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore
quite conscious undeclared state of war
prevails within body electric of troubadour
now seated at his Macbook Pro
today February 20, 2021.

Since January thirteenth of this year
(two thousand and twenty one),
yours truly suddenly feels
long in the tooth, i.e. auld,
he whose decrepit body and
gnarled hands ice cold
rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled
coronavirus (COVID-19) motherlode
analogous to discovered vein of mined gold

grim reaper with scythe doth silently infold
(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)
ore yonder church bell knolled
anonymous sexagenarian
(any strong resemblance between said poet
whose dead head lolled),
and once living person purely coincidental)
death and decay, I lichen to mold
scant personal possessions outsold
to highest bidder.

Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul
with absolute zero regret
no longer being alive,
especially when endurance and stamina
took kamikaze nose dive
formerly buzzfeeding
desiccated honeycomb hive

in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche
need no longer worry
his existence perfect example
how hardship did misthrive
death be not proud penultimate quest
since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)
he did (unsuccessfully) strive.

At long last... beastie boy attained nirvana
routing hellish existential crisis
courtesy earth, wind and fire
rendered null and void celibate journey
knight in shining armor
forever staind and tarnished
compliments verboten extramarital whoopie.

Herewith I forthwith take poetic license
linkedin to long line of mamas and the papas
whose music died
when passenger(s) violently perished
courtesy flaming inferno
analogous to L(ead) Z(eppelin) 129
christened Hindenburg.

Along similar blurred lines
foo fighter manned ****** temple pilot
Jefferson Airplane qua Starship
gracefully and slickly
deliberately maneuvered crash test dummy
immediately annihilated upon impact
smack dab into puddle of mudd,
yet lo and behold as a foreigner
and survivor yours truly eluded dire straits.

Oz suppose during whirlwind Kansas tour,
while snatching forty winks
in toto working out kinks,
I experienced revelation
regarding divine creator - Egypt me
never securing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
elusive weltanschauung as understanding,

the mysterious Sphinx,
yes essentially zilch joie de vivre
minus high jinks
aptly summarizes mein kampf methinks
my life and hard times
whereby vitriol pelted me
courtesy those rat finks.

Nihilistic zeitgeist
apocalyptic outlook sacrificed
no redemption no matter
how figuratively purposelessness sliced
unlike mum man crucified Jesus Christ.

Forecasting to thunderous applause
fast as greased lightning draws
upon futuristic atmospheric gewgaws
hot air emanates out these slackened jaws
spluttering courtesy indentured maws
armed with four footed tall paws
gesticulations resembling horizontal seesaws.

Humidity felt across every square inch
covering these lovely bones,
which pores will dribble perspiration
bracing for onset when
meteorological conditions
spell utter lethargy, I unroll the welcome mat
and present global warming!

Every year I seem less tolerant
when oppressive climate
(specifically merciless heat waves)
blasts one anachronistic, dogmatic, and generic
garden variety weatherbeaten **** sapiens
reduced to torpid inert state.

Central air conditioning quickly
found this creature comfortably acclimated,
who defies, contradicts, bumps uglies...
up against rugged individualist,
yet he meekly professes
spouting ideal survivalist ethos
admitting actual propensity as
nothing else matter
barely distinguishable traits differentiating
yours truly among braggarts
visited by the unforgiven sandman
exhibiting all talk no action.

Analogous to weather scorching
the blackest soul,
a similar aversion exists
toward severe wind chill factor temperatures
plunging mercury way below zero.

When regarding conditions linkedin
with extreme heat index
smothering Perkiomen Valley,
this bloke (residing what seems
since time immemorial
at Highland Manor Apartments) burrows
when heart touched by fire
into sixty degree Fahrenheit
fella climate control mancave,
thus adieu go doldrums
figuratively strait jacketing
yours truly no more.

Unlike luxury to chill out (literally)
back quite scores of years ago
central air conditioning absent
imposing grueling hardship
no deliverance afforded tender vittle Earthling.

When referenced human (me),
he formerly (passively) weathered
humid, hot, and hazy
dog days of summer,
during his boyhood at 324 Level Road.

Said storied estate with manicured formal gardens
lacked luxuriating aforestated amenity
regarding cool (temperature wise) climate control
introducing anonymous reader
familiar or otherwise
regaling modest literary versatility,
whereby yours truly average bloke
Fahrenheit dealt with temperatures
registering bajillion blistering degrees.

Especially upper level housing bedrooms
about half dozen steps above landing
suddenly experiencing indisputable
scientific principle hot air rises
undermining ability to function,
no more active matter rendered lifeless,
but rather equally inert think deathlessness
as an inanimate object
mainly cuz estate - complex edifice
formerly christened "Glen Elm"
built approximately turn of

twentieth century abode -
once encompassed
one hundred plus acre demesne
unfortunately long since razed
(initially intended as summer retreat)
preceding never incorporating
said modern HVAC conveniences,
now no modern building
lacked fantastic amenities,
plus ability to tolerate hardship
much more omnipresent
before yours truly

racked quite numerous
orbitz round the sun
versus now, when
greater sensitivity prevails,
I admit pioneer spirit plummeted,
and if forced to forego
custom tailored environment
would be immovable prey,
for even the most
harried styled counting crow king carrion,

which admission would
only present challenge
predicated on severe disruption
compromising being hermetically
sealed, linkedin, cocooned...
within man-made dwelling
hardship analogous no name brand
garden variety slug
essentially homeless snail
shell lacked with mew cuss.

Utmost nadir of despair found
this atheist craning his neck skyward
hearing resplendent August orchestra
today June 10th, 2022
choral symphony may sound absurd,
but...mine supreme auditory sense

(compensated with poor vision,
i.e. extreme myopia) impossible mission
driving after dark
genetically injured
acute undoubted gifted courtesy,
viz cochlear ability crystal clear
also heard kindled melodious Lord

and lady joyously plucked harp strings,
which did lyft uber spirits seared, moored
anchored of me, one who demurred
coyly being graced with
exquisite hypnosis got lured

into cerulean celestial vault,
where I acquiesced and murmured
after a lifetime of hardship inured
every cell in my glob bully
warmed weatherbeaten body

sought salvation, thus poetic urge averred
this skeptic (nee nihilist), no matter
faith no more,...perhaps
soul asylum desperation secured

tenuous linkedin thread of hope
barely connecting yours truly, whose word
not necessarily claiming
to be the gospel truth,

nonetheless sought to nimbly aire
asthma tried and true valued metier,
vis a vis thru write of springiness declare
ring nothing sacrilegious,
nor decried as Harris say (ad) aware
no matter Doubting Thomas's (donned

as trumpeting English muffins)
may suspiciously questioning - dare
faux authenticity atop wobbly
shaky, and noname spear
such antithetical blare
nee as the rhyming ranting

of a harmless maniac
with mediocre ability to scare
heavenly visualization -
secondarily as a zealous
Earthlinked aspiring balladeer,

who immediately chucked
delusive fastasical notions
earning degree as an engineer,
thus setting sights, and
virtually figurative crosshair

to cackle like Chanticlear,
which discordant aural
debacle tortured ear pier
sing decibel threshold of unbear
hubble pain for
those unfortunately subjected

and forced to endure such screeching
a result of budget cuts - profoundly severe
that perilous, seditious, and viscous tear
into webbed, whirled, and wide statecraft,
hence melodic reverberation mistaken
as mock apple pie "FAKE" fakir

begging intercession qua spiritual guardian,
wrought mine overactive imagination
conjuring smug cockle doodle fledgling cheer
shoring temple mount reverse fortune,

whereby by fanciful fatefulness, I fell victim,
tomb eye own dim eyes, poppycock did ensnare
riotous, roisterous, and ruinous roostering
essentially roused, grounded,
and distorted nightmare!

analogous to expending precious Air Supply
embellishing, modifying, revising, et cetera
a poem crafted about fourteen months ago.

I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore
quite conscious undeclared state of war
prevails within body (Electric
Light Orchestra) of troubadour,
whereby creative juices did perforce pour
forth as if sung by one man koor;
now he haply seated at his Macbook Pro
today April 29th, 2022
accompanied with Christopher Robin,
Winnie the Pooh, and Eeyore.

Since January thirteenth of this year
(two thousand and twenty two),
yours truly suddenly feels
long in the tooth, i.e. auld,
he whose decrepit body and
gnarled hands ice cold
senility and senescence doled
rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled
coronavirus (COVID-19) motherlode
courtesy geomorphology dynamism fold
analogous to discovered vein of mined gold

grim reaper with scythe doth silently infold
(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)
ore yonder church bell knolled
anonymous beat nickles less,  
dime a dozen, day late
and dollar short sexagenarian
dropped out of Culture Club
(any strong resemblance between said poet
whose Grateful Dead head lolled,
and once living person purely coincidental)
death and decay, I lichen to mold
meself finally nill and void nolde
of unwanted excessive fleshy flab
scant personal possessions outsold
to highest bidder polled.

Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul
with absolute zero regret
no longer being alive,
immortality impossible mission to connive,
especially when endurance and stamina
took kamikaze nose dive
formerly earthlinked buzzfeeding
desiccated honeycomb hive

in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche
need no longer worry
his existence perfect example
how hardship did misthrive
death be not proud penultimate quest
since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)
he did (unsuccessfully) strive.

At long last... Beatle browed
Beastie Boys attained Nirvana
routing hellish existential crisis
courtesy Earth, Wind And Fire
rendered null and void celibate Journey
knight in shining armor
forever staind and tarnished
compliments verboten extramarital whoopie.

Herewith I forthwith take poetic license
linkedin to long line
of Mamas and the Papas
whose music died
when Passenger(s) violently perished
courtesy flaming inferno
analogous to Le(a)d Zeppelin 129
christened Hindenburg.

Along similar blurred lines
foo fighter manned ****** temple pilot
Jefferson Airplane qua Starship
gracefully and slickly
deliberately maneuvered sic
Crash Test Dummies
immediately annihilated upon impact
smack dab into Puddle Of Mudd,
yet lo and behold as a Foreigner
and Survivor yours truly eluded Dire Straits.

Oz suppose during whirlwind Kansas tour,
while snatching forty winks
in toto working out Kinks,
I experienced revelation
regarding divine creator - Egypt me
never securing life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
elusive weltanschauung as understanding,

the mysterious Sphinx,
yes essentially zilch joie de vivre
minus high jinks
aptly summarizes mein kampf methinks
my life and hard times
whereby vitriol pelted me
courtesy those rat finks.

Nihilistic zeitgeist
apocalyptic outlook sacrificed
no redemption no matter
how figuratively purposelessness sliced
unlike mum man crucified Jesus Christ.

While on the topic
of blood kith and kin,
I relate another
fabricated poem about
blimey bloke of a fisherman.

Courtesy webbed whirled wide net wit
cursing thwarted life,
liberty and pursuit of happiness
if eavesdropper, you would discern
nasality – cause uvula split
holed within mancave unit b44,
a regular run of the mill hermit.

Any resemblance between
said character and living persons
purely (off fish shilly) coincidental
material scoured from dregs
of me muss held head.

I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion
reinforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money

to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spewed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinquished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within
each trough and crest

found thee old man
with privateer mean
mien whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born,
bred and near lee

schooled within briny
deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovially
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he

referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via
eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,

yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.

An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air
of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him
to exit the uterine lair

at least a few score
tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness
played across his eyes
one colored green
like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
man four score and seven
pearl jam oyster cult year.

noticeably decreases in one direction.

I take lock, stock and barrel
to revisit good ole days of yore
quite conscious undeclared state of war
prevails within body electric of troubadour
now seated at his Macbook Pro
another reasonably rhyming poem
I hope to score
signalled by satisfaction
qua eye of the tiger doth roar
today February 18, 2023.

Since January thirteenth of this year
(two thousand and twenty three),
yours truly suddenly feels
long in the tooth (actually
I wear dentures), nevertheless
yours truly languishes within
self made prison and feels auld,
a shy person, who rarely exhibited bold
lack the benefit of powder milk biscuits,
he whose decrepit body and

gnarled hands ice cold
rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled
inoculated against coronavirus
(COVID-19) motherlode
staving off silent grim reaper
swinging scythe catching
(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)
another mortal into his fold
analogous to discovered vein of mined gold
mine lovely bones clutched in deathly hold

ore yonder church bell knolled
anonymous sexagenarian
(any strong resemblance between said poet
whose dead head lolled),
and once living person purely coincidental)
death and decay, I lichen to mold
scant personal possessions outsold
to highest bidder courtesy
subtle nod auctioneer told
across webbed wide wold.

Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul
with absolute zero regret
no longer being alive,
especially when endurance and stamina
took kamikaze nose dive
formerly buzzfeeding
desiccated honeycomb hive
where I bumbled along

and learned how to boogie woogie and jive
in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche
need no longer worry
his existence perfect example
how hardship did misthrive
death be not proud penultimate quest
since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)
he did (unsuccessfully) strive.

At long last... beastie boy attained nirvana
routing hellish existential crisis
courtesy earth, wind and fire
rendered null and void celibate journey
knight in shining armor
forever staind and tarnished
compliments verboten extramarital whoopie.

Herewith I forthwith take poetic license
linkedin to long line of mamas and the papas
whose music died
when passenger(s) violently perished
courtesy flaming inferno
analogous to Le(a)d Zeppelin 129
christened Hindenburg.

Along similar blurred lines
foo fighter manned ****** temple pilot
Jefferson Airplane qua Starship
gracefully and slickly
deliberately maneuvered crash test dummy
immediately annihilated upon impact
smack dab into puddle of mudd,
yet lo and behold as a foreigner
and survivor yours truly eluded dire straits.

Oz (zee oz born during
baby boom generation)
and suppose during
whirlwind Kansas tour,
while snatching forty winks
in toto working out kinks,
I experienced revelation
regarding divine creator - Egypt me
never securing life, liberty

and pursuit of happiness
elusive weltanschauung as understanding,
the mysterious Sphinx,
yes essentially zilch joie de vivre
minus high jinks
aptly summarizes mein kampf methinks
my life and hard times,
whereby vitriol pelted me
courtesy those rat finks.

Nihilistic zeitgeist
apocalyptic outlook sacrificed
no redemption no matter
kidnapped without ransom
concerning grateful dead heist
how figuratively purposelessness sliced
unlike mum man crucified Jesus Christ.

And I thought it
Couldn't get any worse
Till I saw no shoes
Upon your *****
Blistered feet
Weatherbeaten hands
Begging for even
A tiny crumb
Cracked skin from the
Heat and cold
Filth covered clothes
From gutters nearby
Hair tangled up
Woven into massive
Weeds of no beginning
Or end
A stench so bad
Animals ran away
No voice to be heard
Just tears falling down
Perhaps it wasn't
That bad afterall