Recent Poetry

Fall with me
Along with those first leaves
That concede their fate so easily
Less stubborn than we

Those first few, not arbitrarily
Do jump and dance
Along on gentle breezes
To and ‘fro

Between the Elm and Oak
Before the sudden drop
That autumn stoically stokes
Prodding pokes

Let us float along with them
And lay our heads on pillows
As smooth and soft as willows
Coy, coy kisses

Each time 

we pass

I stop 

to touch

tentatively pressing 

Rumble stones roll afar

Misty, look across the desert land

Crumble, lifting upon a star

Hunted with guns in hands

Avail enemies of all

Wishing death upon all

Cruelty and unbinding falls

Plentiful dreams of innocents and dancehalls

Sleepless dreams to defeat

Stones roll afar

Bang from the barrels

Victimized apart

Victimized of what

Victimized my living

Victimized my life

Victimized my ambitions.....

12:43a.m.

Calm with the reality of night

Four dead bodies

Not a crook in sight

12:45a.m.

Cops seize the bay

Reporters and detectives

Work till the light of day

Who would do such a crime

No leads towards the scene

No eye witnesses

This was done too clean

1:30a.m.

Reporter unleashes the tale

Invisible on the run

Murder at quarter pass twelve

Bodies!

Hundreds and hundreds of them

Nice or scary, and slightly hairy

Walking, running, crawling on the ground

to follow you around

Over or under each other

Snakes

Coiled and knotted, bothered

by the lack of direction

and cold reception

of leaders too busy climbing

to the top of the pile

We drive through our city and marvel 
that it is ours. Everything is unlimited promise. 

There is no way to distinguish faith from hope: both
equally wasteful as far as emotions go. As if
any emotion isn't wasteful. Being human is
fucking terrible. If I was born a tree I would not
know how to miss other trees in the forest. I hope
to hear from you but I don't. I hope to feel nothing 
in exchange for nothing but instead I fill up.

I don't want more of you. I want all of you.

I couldn't love this weather more. Iced tea! A 
hidden creek that only we and half the city have found! 
A Frank O'Hara poem! I wish to taste oranges
when we kiss. 

Everyone is in the same places. All the good
rocks are taken. The strangers meet over and over. 
The pattern of missing you only to reunite. The 
drunk boy tries to kiss Lora again. 

You don't taste like oranges. You don't show up. You don't
like my bars, my diners, my lakes, 

"Come," said a fat bumblebee,
"Come follow me to this oak tree."
I followed as off he buzzed
for no other reason than because
this tree also called my name.

A strong trunk supported sturdy
branches, long and burly.
Two squirrels used it as a gym,
entertaining both me and them,
during a light spring rain.

This tree called to my very soul,
making me feel both young and old.
It spoke to me of a different time,
one before words and rhyme,
when he and I were but the same.

I watch you swing at end of knotted rope
To hover over murky river water
Legs wrapped and crossed at ankles
Arcing back towards me I catch
The lovely smile that sparkles
Off you swing again away from me
Approach again to lock your gaze
With loving glance

Why are you those summer girls
That swing on mottled ropes
That hang along the shores
Of mountain rivers?
That fade and approach
Why do you distance then near
Taking with you my reproach?
Nearing again with new found hope

He's so subtle
You don't notice the scars
Until he's gone...
His charm seduces
His smile invites you
Even his clever tongue
Eases your doubts
Yet when he leaves
When his damage is complete
You are tainted...
You cry and weep
You scream and sleep
But you can't escape
The memories....