#503. river solstice

December 13, 2011

solstice
offers up december 
to the coming beauty
the coming truth of winter
is here and spring is coming
the water is still flowing under
wind ridged river ice fish are still 
growing

it’s quiet in the noisy market
as purple kholrabi scream
hot malaysian cashews
chatter with the old
tiny women over
locally grown 
sour cherries
volunteers groan
and shave ice blocks
out the highway moaning
with the muffled shade made
in the noise of the quiet market

#458. pittsburgh (for evvie

February 10, 2011

sometimes man its the poem not the poet 
time counts up the years and down
meeting space too is sacred water

sometimes man the grey rivers are so cold
and where they meet they are Oh Cold
meeting and roiling new waters

sometimes man february is a song for spring
snow and ice singing on the rivers
helping a child to the morning

sometimes man the function follows form
space and form following functioning
warmth following spring and cold

#394. home you know

September 27, 2010

the grey rivers
mist and concrete
steel slate windows wind
sheets of driven rain competing
with the black thunderheads above
dull glass towers filled with my millions
of neighbors and their many colored dreams
burning their various meanings into entire lives

#370. loose ends

August 30, 2010

a wierd week
before labor day
quiet in manhattan
the heat is back now
and everyone wants ice
or was that ninety years ago
when the spirits and shades knew
that reality was a confidence game

flattened by the real
strength from the unexpected
kindness a stranger takes from me
the flowering daily burden thawed
icewater and exhaustion blend
clarify the experience

down the stairs of sleep i go

Th woman
as paint
the pure lines of body
breast hip navel.
sharp
the pure lines of face
cheek nose eye.

all colors change sparkles
all colors real
color.

***

i sing angel with iggy pop
yr loveslaps
joy
collapsedance.

i dance naked.

later we fuck beautiful.
sweat is the endless sea.

***

Th woman
as man
i’m not pushing
or pulling yr rib.

i kiss yr hand.

***

The closed world of us in a car
at night.
Dreams.
dense and sweet against
the bitter chocolate world.
Touch the cold windshield
turned to ice.

Wake to morning thunder.
Pounds
lazy.

***
Th woman
over now.

#179. vacant

February 20, 2010

vacant

work silence

vacant

days

with life

to do

vacant

chair

vacant

as the ice

block

floating

hudson river

sea bound down

past

vacant

me.

#170. christina’s line

February 11, 2010

brooklyn is dripping
from bridge to bridge
to bridge.
steam rising across the river
has to be bburgh.
the ice and slush makes the borough shine.
water flows from the heights
and makes of the car tires’ song
a different winter tune.

the many facets of a nor’easter’s beauty evolve towards the seasons
to come.

confined by time
we are liberated by the power
of the moment.

break the ice
on the surface of the water trough.
the goat
is thirsty this morning
and the horses in the barn
don’t want to share.

this snow pea weather
snaps my amygdala
across time

i am wide eyed

staring up through ice
at grey beard me

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