#24. At The Cape

September 19, 2009

At The Cape

At The Cape

At the head
Of the year.
In family
in truth
The waves crash
No less
the sound
To soothe
A small dog
walking by the side
of a beloved woman
Looking up at her

#23. TimePrayer

September 18, 2009

The years are fast and
I am moving towards dust
The perfect bride
Entering my house
After the long week
Now gone candle soft
Burning down
To rest
No prayer needed
Just prayer

#22. Goodbye Henry

September 18, 2009

It was you
Short like I
Who a year after
I wrote my first poem
was on tv
with poetry
and showing me
a way
to sing.

#21. A woman playing chess—

September 17, 2009

A woman playing chess—

concentrating on her opponent
               lover          easy mark.
He bent to the board
         her will       flirty eyes.
Her deliberation is immense
           intense             penetrating.

I who try cannot flash
         across her eyes        mind      life.
The boy is in trouble
           taking it hard      withdrawing.

She smiles and it threatens him
             takes him          takes aim at him.
When the mate is checked
          checkmate         checking her mate

she crosses the board
        moves around the table
caresses his hair
         delicately picks up his king
and puts her tongue
         in his mouth.

#20. Jim Carroll RIP

September 15, 2009

Jim Carroll RIP

Another ghost of new york.
Tall and beautifull and fucked up.
Spin the ball
Ball that girl
Girl that poem
Shoot it up.

#19. Treadmill Jailor

September 15, 2009

Do you see this rose?
Do you see this face?
These parallel shadows?

Yr eyes have open’d the box
of my dreams.
Despair would close it
but yr eyes insist.

The cat pads over to the stereo
nose exploring
and puts on some Dylan.
Much closer to morphine than Morphine.

The tender embraces of women
torture in my cell.
My expectations are the collar
which marks me.
Defeats me.

Then you smile.

Do you want this rose?
Do you need this face?
These parallel shadows?

#18. As The Days

September 14, 2009

As the days

go by
I learn more and more
the meaning of being loved.
And the meaning of be loved.

The sparkle of the metal
within the warm shadowy green
inspires me to a golden sculpture.

#17. Long Isle Pastoral

September 13, 2009

a green blurb of a thing
black and red
foundation houses
skated roofs
against a brassy sky
hazy (or lazy
silver cloud lining
somewhat deep sound of wave
against the sailboat
i wanna be the mast.

#9/11. Ghosts Of New York

September 12, 2009

Ghosts Of New York

In the rain mists
Not just
But tomorrow
And all those yesterdays.

Native mannahatta
Disappear sold up the Hudson
For a legend and beads.

Revolution and battles
Spirit ships with masts like
A movable forest.

Riots of
Dead irish africans and natives
Artifacts of five points
Give a sharp taste
To the air.

Masses refreshed
Thru labor
Burnt triangle brand
Wispy united girls
Tunnel rats.

those uniformed
War children
Still walk the cobbles
And asphalt
Although their hometowns
Never saw them again.

And the victims and their
Rescuers gather in the null
Every day as the tourists gawk
The vendors hawk
And their family’s

In the rain mists
Not just
But tomorrow
And all those yesterdays.

#15. Weekly

September 11, 2009


watching young women
laughing even
frowning over newspaper.
They melt forward in time
to luminous age
still life active
backwards sculpture
reverse rodin.

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