old songs and old friends

poetry

sitting for hours
on hard chipotle benches,
barely noticed in the reminiscence
of times past,
of times to come,
of everything in between,
enjoying the moment
although we all know
that it won’t last,
that it will fade away
like a song from the past
that slowly disappears
and then one day is found
on a shuffled ipod
and immediately suspends time
for four minutes or so,
taking everything back
to the idealized past,
in which everything we shared
is remembered fondly,
improving on the reality,
which was good already.

Star-Specked

poetry

Sultry, almost plentiful
the star-specked sky sits,
becoming,
only partly blurred from the
toxic city lights beneath it

We lay on the concrete
pretending we know which
sets of stars have names
and which stars are just
stars

The air moves slowly over us,
cool for one,
cold for another,
and thin, webbed clouds cover,
just for a moment,
the sultry, almost-plentiful
star-specked sky

In those moments I miss you

opus

poetry

i awoke to find my hours
still at bay waiting for myself
to catch up as i ran to
lose the fear i knew awaited
should i not endure some pain to
soften the blows that followed

endurance came more out of
necessity than some personal triumph
i could no more attribute to myself
than my own salvation

light comes with the morning filled with
things so sweet, tranquil, mundane as to
hardly be poetry
but a donut cannot lie
and a burrito brings you the same joy
no matter what the flavor or the cost if its
been a year since one touched your lips

lying jetlagged on the floor i look back on
six months of answered prayer for courage
through the one thing i lack the strength and
pride is nowhere around as i held you in my
arms and you refused sleep in the way i refused to
give up hope
and you humbled me

a traveler’s treatise

poetry

i’ve seen a tiger in denver
caged and discontent–
why in God’s name must i see
one in every city in which i set foot?
will a parade of morose tigers
provide enlightenment?

all our cities
seek to be the same
practicing emulation to perfection

but when we travel
let us cannonball into
the unfamiliar

avoid highways
fill the tires of an old bike
lace up sturdy walking shoes
eat at a restaurant owned by the cook
swim in the nearest river
revel in the flora
seek out the fauna
bathe in the accents of locals
make them your friends
sleep under their roofs

then return
and–without photos–
tell me of your travels

I Wish I Could Be Entertained This Easily

poetry

Fetch!
I say
He bounds off
After a yellow tennis ball
Tail wagging
Tongue sagging
Saliva splashing
Bolting at, and on one bounce
He leaps off hind legs
Snatching the ball in air
Galloping back at full speed
He presents the soaking ball
To me as if it were a prize
Rolling it off his tongue
With elegant presentation
His head cocks
One ear bends
His mouth smiles
(At least looks like it)
Again. His face says
Throw it again.

Saving Seats

poetry

Grinding at the road, the bus jittered and swayed
Moving our bodies along with its erratic rhythm
I closed my eyes letting the dissonance overtake me

So when are we getting that studio apartment in the city
Where I’ll write the lyrics and you’ll sing the songs?

Never showed up at Broad Street, it wasn’t like you.
Save me a seat, you said, we’ll go house hunting together

My backpack, laid onto my jacket, both waited
For you to arrive, saving the vacant seat next to me

It was finally when your sister called, hysteria in every word
That I knew your absence would never be filled

But the bus still rattled, and thumped through traffic
Changing direction with potholes and pebbles
As I sat, spinning between silence and chaos

Re-vamped

poetry

i wish that i were a vampire
but of an entirely different sort;
not possessed of boyish good looks
and not one that plays by the books;
not your normal vampire douche
and definitely not from Belarus;
content merely to sleep all day
and drink a little blood along the way;
not worrying about what would happen tomorrow
because i would have known enough sorrow
from living throughout recorded history
but always as an unfathomable mystery.

in praise of introvertion

poetry

my mind is a-clatter with unmentionables,
unmentionables that ring,
unmentionables that sting,
thoughts that should not be spoken,
thoughts that would leave me broken
in the eyes of all those around
if they knew my thoughts underground
but luckily i keep my head,
and the unmentionables stay in a cozy bed
of repressed thoughts and feelings
so that no one has to go reeling.

Two Dogs

poetry

Two dogs bark
more than one dog barks
but they still both bark,
just one barks less than two.

the little one chides
the big one chastises
the little one bites
and the big one… tries to kill him

but it all works out
for the sweet bliss
(that’s made that much sweeter)
when they both stop barking

…for a second anyway

Sand

poetry

Lines tracing lines in brittle paths
Mountains worn smooth and small as grain
Crumbling between fretted fingers
Tumbling to miniature spires
Amid a canvas of green and salt

Delicate dimples curving portraits
Memories shape shift and scuttle
Leaping down shallow ravines
Bracing for cascading bubbles
To overflow and wash away
Refreshing a pallet never ending

The Study

poetry

When drawing
in the study
it becomes the drawing room
im-promp-tu

And the music room
when someone grabs the
a-cous-tic
and drags it in by
the strings

So now there’s a
drawing-music room
and some jackass
is writing
some po
-e
-try
just to -really-
complicate things

…but, I suppose,

everyone is studying.

Dental

poetry

Teeth

Your teeth are
glistening

Your teeth are
smiling through your
smile at me

Dripping, nearly
drooling all their own

Please
Don’t
Bite
Too
Hard

Your teeth
are smiling through
your smile at me

Smile at me
Please,
It
Makes
The
Bite
Less
Hard

Getting Hideous

poetry

Rain falls a miracle
the learned ones green or old wheeze sneeze a drop against my psyche,
the old friend, throbbing incoherent nibbling on the Rorschach test
and I see
lightnings and thunders livening the night
bats and butterflies colorful and dark
music dancing through her
myself eaten up by a spinach quiche.

In my new old apartment, German roaches roam unconquered
some days, I wake up with a few rounded up beneath my belly,
little freeloading bastards,
how about a bottle of red? maybe some pinto beans instead
to cover up the uneasiness born out of our relationship –
my kicking maternal instinct.
But motherhood is a many-splendored thing, for
tomorrow, the little darlings will die.
The Landlady promised.

Tonight, the little one is by the window,
still and fragile
the rain tap dance against the glass
I can taste the metal
How we all fit, big small discontinued
scattered and invisible.
one phone call, the universe’s landlady
nice and demure will send out her control team
and off the pest go. Welcome the spinach!

Friends Of Mine

poetry

I want to
spend the night with you
on someone else’s furniture
and wake up early
because we both have work in the morning

and I want to drive down the highway
on fumes
and I want to drive down the country road
on the same fumes

I want to
sit and listen to you
almost but not quite
crying
over anything,
everything,
that makes you almost
but not quite
cry

And I want to
FIGHT
I mean I really want to
FIGHT
for anything there is
to fight for

and I want to drive down the highway
on fumes
and I want to drive down the country road
on the same fumes