#426. for daring girl

November 8, 2010

scars are our stories
tears also have their own feel
under our tender fingertips
stand proud in the glass
that is a braver poetry
than closing our eyes
to our own beauty

#399. east river esplanade

October 3, 2010

of now and then
with out knowing the point
spread out over all the time it takes
to walk a girl from pier seventeen to battery park
and ride home with the daily catch
on the path to awareness
that everything

#283. lost

June 4, 2010

without a word
the little girl
draws me in
small and bouncing flirt
who pushes me
to my memories
of my own children
lost so long ago
that only their vague shapes
remain to me

two girls
thirty-six hours
smell drink laugh
beckoning poems
as i die

#247. one for stephanie

April 29, 2010

ram me hard
i have the room
for another bruise
turning to flowers
under my skin
it’s okay

#242. hearth

April 24, 2010

in the glisten of evening
my girls return my spirit
to the life that remains
mine to share

water slaps
earth groans
metal squeals
wood creaks
flame snaps

Yesterday, I danced out with a bashful bride
at the shore of the burning sundown ocean
pacified at the core of the nebula
of quick tides.

golden bands converge
on the woman dancing
in the froth of the shore.

Her eyes hold
mine in divine spiral
locked in sea green
gaining depthful dark
visions where lurk
imagination’s creatures.

lines foam
and disappear
with surf roar and rime.

As she moves deep in my eyes
she drowns in the light
created by her for my delight.
She tastes my eyelids with her lips
and with a voice girl like and soft
calls them chocolate.

even I back up
as the sea involves

Tomorrow I sleep with beauty
in a bed defined by us to be ours
if we want to ascend the spiral
embrace to a warm and salty sea.

as waves move us
I stride naked with the power
the woman gifts me.

Oh you salt-stained girl
hold me let us
taste the fortress of future
a feast of lovely
shells popping seaweeds
forever in our grasp
on a beach lit by the Endless.

#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.

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