Selected Poems

  • Cyclist Hit By Car

    I see the cyclist propelled through the Summer air.
    His Brooklyn frame lands with a fleshy thud.
    He slowly arises with a passive aggressive smirk.
    The perpetrator checks the state of his van first.

  • Socrates Versus Muse

    The muse are often a flighty band. Some days they flitter about in far away neighborhoods. Others they will hover in silent stares, casting shadows on my tombstone, withholding all information, letting one think. The inflicted occupation of thinking has caused many a malfeasance. In this neighborhood it spells death. The friction of the feet must generate enough heat to keep the children from freezing. The reflex must be honed as the switchblade sidearm is, ready to strike with fists of hardened bone. To stop and figure is a gesture to the predators of submission. A confident tone and sharp intuition goes a long way here. We are the warriors of understanding, letting the information wash over when it rains, following the patterns that it paints for our sake. And when the sun shines in its unsettling silence, we wait.

  • Interstellar Saviors

    In the middle of the morning
    At the start of a day
    I saw the beaming lights of distant
    Loving people finding long waves
    From celebrated corners of the fairest stellar side
    They came to give us pleasant dreams
    Came to help us find
    In those beams of blistered vision
    Pulling up to heaven
    There was no resistance from the lambs
    Floating into mother ship’s wombs
    Landing in new feet again
    This is the future we had dreamt
    A utopia of science and emotion
    The religion of standing still
    And the blasphemy of angry will
    Sent this vessel first to extinguish
    Now to experience a wandering flight
    Into what was once considered night
    Now it’s seen as it unfolds
    To be a long story not yet told
    Our insignificant stance in the infinite dance
    Of matter and importance none
    The energetic transfer all to one
    In magnetics we find solitude
    Or disperse into a wash of atomic color
    I await this coming wave
    An invasion of the norm
    The mighty ships of pirates
    Arrive to free the earthly slaves.

  • Black Godess

    Coffee makes me love
    Even before I stir
    My heart is open to the world
    I take the medicine for being
    By the mouth without seeing
    The true glory of the day
    It always comes true
    With the mouth watering ensues
    The brilliant awakening of cells
    The super heightened manic bend

    I give myself to you black goddess
    My occupation depends on your benevolence
    Your encouragement is sweet
    It glides and softens too
    I find my way through
    An otherwise foggy day
    Far from the San Francisco Bay
    Where I first saw your face
    You were everywhere in my way
    Helping me to stay awake
    Through the trying days of twenty-three

    Now we’re an undefeatable team
    Sometimes in true true black
    Accompanied by a snack
    Or augmented by sugar and cream

  • Giving Ghosts Gifts

    I smell fresh roses on the subway
    Are my ghosts here too?
    Can they visit inhospitable places?
    Pass through me drawing out memory

    It’s always unexpected when it happens
    An overwhelming sense of calm
    More than déjà vu or melancholy
    It’s the wave of true sensation

    It passes so brusquely
    As if only to taunt my motion
    Leaving only memory, a pale emotion
    Compared to time and space travel

    Thank you for the flowers
    On this grey Spring day
    Even if their presence quiets
    A disillusioned way.

    How can a mortal give gifts to a ghost
    Passing things across the ether
    We can only accept
    Until the great gap is bridged.

  • Am I Working?

    I get so sleepy in this dreamy place
    Eyes are so heavy in my face
    Where did I get this idea
    To sit for money until the  days end

  • The Separation of Time

    It often starts the same way, with no thoughts and no direction. It’s almost like a prayer: I am open and willing to be led into the spirit of giving. Sometimes the thread weaves into a beautiful web, intricate and decidedly serene. Sometimes the wandering lust manages a coup, and away to the battlefield we go. Today, I don’t know. It seems like we’re just here. We’re here in the train going nowhere. The distance varies in theory, but the destination remains the same. It’s not the philosophy of present moment hogwash. It just the kiss of time as she breezes by. She leaves us with debris and belongings. I often forget to thank her for the living gifts. Today it is still and right. Each moment a fluid circle.

  • Howling Wolf Blues

    It takes courage to sing
    To let out the wolf’s blood
    Let it rain into the mouths of prey

    Accosted by naysayers
    Yet still unwavering
    Into the moon’s waning ear
    The strains of earthly summer tunes
    Improvised by shutting out the noise
    From the orchestrated blues

    Sometimes she must run
    To escape the mounting tension
    And build up the well
    Until the levees burst violence
    Spray the walls with blood red calm
    Wanting to do no harm
    But the chemical is strong

    As the pull of the goddess mothers face becomes undeniable
    She reaches down into her belly
    Where the fiery pain burns
    Where the gestating movement approaches critical mass
    Stand straight, here comes the rain
    And a thundering howl claps across the American sky
    The ones who were waiting the longest
    Are satisfied by the sound
    And the beast deflates into a shell
    Defeated in the true glory of nature
    The sounds and the cells absorbed
    Into a stark, silent western landscape

  • It Takes All to be All

    There are so many things to consider when being a human in this life. The speed of thought and travel velocity is become the topic of concern. Where is this madness taking us? Where are we going at such a rate. Some will always say its toward our own demise. Others will argue its evolving into a better life for All. It seems that acceptance comes more easily to some, and the death spiral is still the path of others–all wanting simply to be loved, appreciated, useful and secure, no matter what the outward elements betray.

    There is no answer because there’s no question. There is only life as its always been since the inverted vortex unbeginning.

    There stands a monument, in the mountains. It is but a flick on the continuum, but it’s meaning is everlasting. The pervasive entirety is good. It persuades a cynic like me to surrender. It fills the void or vacuum with intangible wellness and safety. There’s a medium of chaotic bliss. We are blessed with never, ever, having to know or understand. We shall always retain at least one mysterious non explicable notion in the theater of All.

  • Our Love for the Queen Will Sustain

    What if there were kings or a queen here
    Ruling over this domain
    Giving us the loving care
    We can’t provide for ourselves
    Because we are but simple peasants
    Not accustomed to this way
    All but suffering just to stay awake
    In this American dream

    Let the horns sound for the regal
    Glory to the queen mother
    She loves us without scorn
    Feeds us from her pearly hand

    We are but humble stewards of the land
    Don’t foresake us our wayward desire
    To have what you have
    To steal it away, forever hide it
    In the precious places of our hearts
    This pernicious lust may drive us down
    To bite the sweet and gracious hand
    That gives us love from distant towers
    Our beloved sacred gem and flower

    We promise we will learn to live
    Within the generosity you give
    Even though our dark desire
    May conspire.