• Islands in the Street

  • 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.

  • Peel steel

    Kingston brick yard

    From a series of photos shot at the Kingston brick yard and Tilcon concrete facility—private industrial wasteland

  • Hide and teal

    From a series of photos shot at the Kingston brick yard and Tilcon concrete facility, pre-Bob Dylan concert and fancy food festival

  • 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.

  • Steel for brick

    Kingston brick yard

    From a series of photos shot at the Kingston brick yard and Tilcon concrete facility, pre-development

  • No title

    From a series of photos shot at the Kingston brick yard and Tilcon concrete facility, pre-state park

  • 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.