been a rough saturday for folks
enjoying a day in the city
tempers flare as the train rolls
cool as tickets are punched
good young conductor knows
his stuff woodside next gets us
all under way to queens
jamaica night air puff
and a change sitting
higher now as the points
sound under the car lulls
most to sleep i pop a redstripe
tallboy on the way to babylon
marley comes on pandora barely
random as the dreamers trainsong
dreams roll parallel tracks over
diagonal streets as the sea scent
of bayshore gusts in the open
door old villages ensphered
by decaying suburbia blending
past sayville patchogue on
to something approaching the wild
groans of the uneasy dozer
behind me where imagination
allows a view my window
cant reflect on tomorrows rest
a piano melodically crashing
thru the pine barrens out
beyond mastic beach station
i hear the girls harmonizing
waiting for me to arrive in a few
guess the doze got me too
no matter because the quiet
comes on rolling beautiful past
invisible as i finish my beer
with a gentle rustle of paper bag
speonk is shed with fragrant air
filling the remaining travelers who
eye the promising deep and dark
excitement blowing thru west hampton
the hampton bays next to build up
my happiness for south hampton
and the warm north sea house
and everyone that means
the train can finish its route
without me

confused
by the new lush
growth
in the old wild
places

the reeds are very tall
and they almost hide the sea

aromatic
herbs from your small
gardens
comfort the weary
dreamer

the words dont come quickly
and in your home they dont need to

grey gains its color
from its association with the elements
foam from water
smoke from fire
slurried earth
dessicated wood
tarnished metal

#70. There’s Something

November 3, 2009

There’s Something

in the turn of a narrow drive
a sweep of field
the decaying house stark
against Long Island sky.
The ruined garden echos lovers
whisper in the long ago
moonlight.

How beautiful can the silhouettes of trees be?
What earth stirring there is
in a small placid lake
separated from a crashing sea
by a small strip of woodlands.

Oh the ducks are so well
organized
but the gulls go thier own way.

#63. morning jimmie

October 27, 2009

morning jimmie

The brain shakes the fear out of my clouds
breaking from the sun.

Earlier the wind blows the rain under the eave
where I stand on rocks.

My happiness
smoking a Raleigh plain end
and planning the garden.

The mud of garden puddles into pools
the run off from the gutterspout
must be stopped!

Build the dike
stop.

Gentle noise at back door
my friend awake
radiant
from dreams and delighted amusement
at seeing me in muddy boots.

#31. In Joy

September 27, 2009

In Joy

she holds my hand
the left
more sensuous one
and offers me her lips
as if it were the beginning
of the world
and they the leaves of of the Tree
of Knowledge.

In joy
she cups her breast
the more
sensitive one
and offers it to my lips
as if it were the beginning
of the world
and the glistening Garden.

In joy
she completes us
and so do I
offering our lips
as if it were the beginning
of the world
and we were with our kisses
planting the fruit of the Tree of Life.

#26. Summer Day

September 22, 2009

Summer Day

and enjoyment spreads clear
as the day is bright and blue.

summer day
and sidewalk waves rise shivering
as chairs hold oblivious drinkers.

summer day
and green park cools kids dogs
as restless homeless rest wary.

summer day
and car metal hot smells burns rubber
as they pass the jazz band tightly playing.

summer day
and the garden fountain to be sings sprays Erato
as you brush against me languid perfect.

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