burning winter
sharpening storms
underneath rose blue
sky and clouds shining
a swift green river down
seawards colors evaporating
rushing away today from tomorrow
the plank still flecked with paint
tosses its journey in time
with the world’s

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

by the new lush
in the old wild

the reeds are very tall
and they almost hide the sea

herbs from your small
comfort the weary

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

i walk now
within the arms
of strangers

the sound
of rushing rivers
surrounds my earth

the tentative air
of mid spring speeds
our garden seed to summer

love for each
other is in our questions
about the universe

#192. gray fades away

March 5, 2010

the rays shot thru
the gray today

sunshine to hope with

to dream of spring
while winter melts away

i went down to the water today, again.
the east river at high tide then to
the hudson estuary with all the wind
and the birds flying and screaming
felt the mud at the bottom of the harbor exposed
and cold stinking of life and our culture
being cleansed impure until we kill ourselves off.

i trust the sea to do what is needful
for the air to transmit all the information
that the trees need to create
that the earth needs to return us to the fire.

i will go down to the water tomorrow, again.

#74. I Would

November 8, 2009

I Would
see round your face
tight colors.

I would
melt beneath your body
snow sheets.

I would
kiss your good hands
fine scent.

I would
brush your bright hair
rain breeze.

I would. I would. I would.

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