lazy sunday

walking down Forest Lane we

  pass rows of bicycles

  parked outside of a cafe

men and women

          and women and men sit

          and talk stride for stride

          and write and listen

the afternoon sun blasts

    heat waves down our necks

    and all I want is a sorbet

what's the difference between

  a sorbet and a sherbet

  I ask the ice cream

  parlor man - he has no

  clue.

            you run ahead

  to pet a puppy and

  drop your ice cream

  in the process

you look back at me

  with an embarrassing

  grin -

            all I can do

    is smile.

audrey

red passionate eyes

  go check the mirror

doubled up in pleasure

  or pain - it's pleasure no doubt

pearly white teeth bared

  with a flashy grin

streaks of black in your

  platinum blonde hair

short stubby fingers -

  nails painted red

red against the pale complexion

  of your silky skin

somebody told me you're

  a natural brunette

and that your red eyes

  are actually hazel

so why do you go out of

  your way to change your image?

northridge public manors

this chair fills the empty room

            with noises of wood on wood

while you wait for summer to

            begin the room becomes brighter

            with each passing hour

it is now so bright that the chair

            seems to be missing

I yearn for the cool damp night

            breeze instead of this body

            piercing extreme heat that I

            am not yet accustomed to

the room dims and I can see

            the chair but you sit there

            peacefully ignoring me

I am the night

            you are the day

there is no way

            we will live in

            harmony together

martyr

you hold the brick ready to fling it

  into the marching sea of blue

  and black

you feel nothing but bitter

  resentment at their smug

  looks and cold hard stares

packs of scarved men gather

  behind and ahead of us

  ready to engage the law

we touch the air in front

  of our bodies and create

  a cross

I pray to God and it's all

  up to Him now

. . .

your death was broadcast live

  throughout the world and

  the murdering men in blue

  are condemned by all nations

  for their immoral unforgiving

  actions against us and yet

  to me

  this is an empty victory

gentle fall from grace

Just like Bessie you

     try and sass me

Can't say it works on

     me darling

I've become immune to

     the banter you scream

Let's go back to when

     it was just sweet talk

None of this elegant elusive

     discourse about money

Or about how little time

     you have to yourself

Let's go -

     higher than the stars

and plummet back down

  and start again

flint

I didn't know how

   profit prophets navigated

   through the discourse of

   talentless chumps of

   walled streets of sin

ONE thousand and seven hideous

   suns peeked around the

   corner and hid at

   the sight of us -

   the peasantry

MEGAphones and SPEAKERphones

   rally on the summit

   of mountains of invisible ash

   - spheres of thoughts

   float between demonstrators

ONE by ONE bubbles explode

   like cantankerous sores and

   men and women mobilize

   to end this fiery debacle

   of volcanic ash

It's pouring the rain from 

   above and beyond and our

   conversations end as empty

   promises are kept and

   white lies are told to

   protect me and you and

   you and you and you

   and you and you and

   you.

social musk

the radio is on and you are

  lying in bed next to me

  the afternoon sun turns your

  eyes a bright emerald green

  and your lips glisten in the

  light...

I put my arms around you and

  you kiss my cheek and tell me

  how good I smell and how you

  love the way it makes you feel

  and you look at me and

  smile

the radio plays a song and you

  hold my hand and I squeeze

  it tight and kiss your

  forehead and I whisper

  to you how much you mean

  to me

I trace your ears with my

  fingers and you inhale my

  scent as you close your

  eyes and you tell me

  you've been sleeping around

  and begin to cry

I pull my arms away from

  you and put my hands

  behind my head and sigh -

  the radio is on and

  you are lying in bed next

  to me.

trying

I realized that all lines

lead to one point and

all lanes cross each other

at one point in time but

sometimes you try to

force it to go somewhere

but it is inevitable that

it reroutes itself to the

end.

Don't think or dwell on

it too much, you know

better than that but

you really can't help it

regrets and paths that

you didn't take, I know.

No one can change the past

we all just have to live with it

and use it as a marker to try

to change the present. 

conductor

I've been wanting to go somewhere

  where apple trees bloom in winter

  and cattails grow unchecked

the sun beams down on

  this place as the wind

  tickles my cheeks

my white shoes and double-tail

  tuxedo remain spotless as I

  wade through the thistle

I can hear the crickets playing

  Beethoven's string quartet in B minor

  and it is beautiful

apple trees bloom in

  December and the color

  is red like Saint Nick's suit

and I love how the crickets perform

  as I eat apples

  and conduct my life.

sunday misadventure

WHAT a sight did I see!

            it was a bazaar!

let me tell you this -

            it was quite bizarre!

a man, a dove, a turtle, a trick

            a rope, a ladder, and an afro pick!

the turtle jumped - I swear to God

            the dove impaled it with a red hot rod!

the man, oh MAN, it was nuts

            shot the dove and ate the guts!

he propped the ladder on the stage

            and slapped himself in fits of rage!

he combed the audience for a suitable mate

            but he ended up with someone less than great!

the man grabbed the rope and tied the pick

            and the next part, oh DAMN, it made me sick!

the selected gal climbed the ladder

            and he hoisted her up higher and higher!

but the rope and the pick didn't agree

            so down she went like bags of potpourri!

he tried to catch her but he failed

            and everyone's face was white and pale!

she landed on him head first - feet last

            so we all fled the bazaar quick and fast!

so here I am telling you this story -

            avoid bazaars they're weird and gory!

I'm scared scarred and forever hurt

            so I'll make this statement quick and curt!

I drank a gallon of generic pesticide

            soon I'll have committed suicide!

nowhere

immobilized

            go on

                                                proceed

fly away

      away

      away

                        somewhere close

                        somewhere far

distance                                    proximity

and a moral grey area:             time

and I know I won't be all right

clamor clamor for encores

  but nothing will set it right -

                        - not even time -

                        - not even distance -

                        - not even proximity -

                        - maybe just

a final performance accompanied by

            silence and

            eventually

                                                                                    gratitude.

harvest

crippling crippling crippling

  steps to take you down

  down down to memory lane

spools of film and overplayed cassette

  tapes loiter in my closet

  for you to explicate

too many feelings too many

  feelings juxtaposition themselves

  with too many visuals

white noise crippling white noise

  full volume ready to

  blow you out

inside outside memories rush

  back and forth broken

  memories continuous memories

right now memories present

  memories is just a

  memory

plastic reels metal reels force

  you to remember

  crippling souvenirs

you sweat tears and you cry sweat

  too much is it

  too much is it

it's crippling it's too much

  then let's just

  fadeout to black

heartbreaker

I am running out of time

                        to tell you how much of a

                        fool I was to have let

                        you go from my life

I thought I was the strong one

                        but turns out I'm not

                        and now time is running

                        out for me to repent

Is it right for me to say I

                        was wrong

Is it wrong for me to want

                        you back

We met under the cloudy Italian night

                        in Palermo and you wore

                        a flowing black dress

                        and I can't forget the way

                        you looked at me

What happened from there

                        till now

                        where did our romance

                        go

                        why did I break

                        my heart

somewhere over the rainbow

you can find me up on top of this brick building at 6am stretching rain or shine to start my life each day   you can find me in the cafe ordering coffee at 8am like I have been for the past twenty years   you can find me walking down 86th and park at 8:15am at a brisk pace to catch the 8:18 bus to columbus circle   you can find me taking the stairs to the 12th floor   you can find me checking my voicemail   you can find me working a 12 hour job until I collapse from exhaustion and have a brain aneurism and be placed in a grave in westchester and that's where I'll be.

souvenir

you can't do anything for me

okay            okay            okay

  and I hate it a lot

1974 came rolling by -

  were you there when Leeds

  United lost 3 in a row

nothing came together after

  you closed the door

  and you bludgeoned me

okay            okay            okay you broke

  me colored me bloody red

  and time ticked upwards

two months passed and the manager

  is sacked but with a

  hefty price

we walked hand in hand down

  Brighton but now you refuse

  to even recognize me

you bludgeoned me to the brink

  of extinction but I came

  crawling back -

- but not to you

  okay            okay            okay I woke up

  breathing finally breathing

the salty ocean air cleared

  my conscience and I forgave

  you at Brighton in 1976

but you don't know that

  we haven't talked since

  you closed the door

will you grovel in front of me

  will you apologize to me

okay            okay            okay

I forgive you and it's about

  time you knew - it's 1982

  and I hate it a lot

the only one

fortunes dispel forecasts of cloudless weather

as raindrops fall down on whitewashed minarets

constructed eons ago

the ancient maple tree sprouts its leaves as

it has done for the last two hundred years

while the skies turn grey for the first time today

the greenery is dimmed under the darkening

sky and the tree bows down under the

heavy pounding rain

children father under the tree to wait

for the rainbow and the gold at it's end

but their mothers yell at them to come inside

can you blame them and their desire to

take their brothers and sisters and mother

and father to a better place?

thunder rolls lazily across the sky and

shakes the maple tree with fright

creating a deluge shower for the lone figure below

the wind whips the leaves in anger and

the branches ride it out without a choice

and the lone figure sits rocking on her knees

she hopes to see the rainbow first

and reach the end first

so she can finally have a family

belief

here's to a life of greed

and the unheralded past

unceremonious laughter of the

deceased and the darkness

that surrounds us

past, present, future

here's to a life of hate and

careful calculated measures

of endearing love to enemies

so close that you can taste it

are you waiting for your time

can you believe in a life that

only takes and never gives back