2 years

and all the days to come
is what is she said
and not what was
will ever win

yet what of the slides
and rides and rambles
in williamsburg fair
shall not be writ for to see?

not for all the noise and snow
and water lapping
at the nautilus of brooklyn
should i forget thee

at long last i will not fail
to gaze where we launched
a thousand hearts in the night
by the starspray of our own fire

these numbers will repeat
2-1-2 heartbeat
books, whiskey, rooftops
-all fleeting

a moment a dream
a flick of a bic
your memory an extender
a half-life longer than mine

for kristina, wherever i may find her

humans forget
in order to survive
but i have lived
because of her
blond memory

she walked
in clicks
down the hall
in jeans and heels
with perfect eyes

she recruited me
to needles and thread
and introduced me
to jesus - what else!
(her tape measure)

how could i ever forget
the last conversation
and then - but a hundred
yards away where the sun
had crumpled her in the road

her future was bright,
so brighter than mine
the black armband
the lost piece
the constant in my mind

i lived to be here for her
so many times
i chose to live
there are no words
for what she is owed

beautiful idle

he puts me in the mood to swing
languorously from the window
idly smoking
and pondering the greenery
below

life in celluloid

you run your hands over me
the gold web of my heart opens
oh its been so cold
and you are so warm
big eyes
your sweat smell
skin against mine
sweet taste
in my mind
had no idea
this is what id find in you
tomorrow due to be
one of those
technicolor days-
leaves will look brighter
my life in celluloid

shinto astolat

silver footed youth
sweet in hand and eye
arc of movement undenied

courage arms grew out
blooms fell swift on your
shoulders past my castle

though my heart still cast
into tight fitted stones
begins to crack and cry

soul of water wash me down
i won't have half a version
of what could have been

love has its reasons, which reason does not know

my true love will understand, and shoot me in the heart, so i will never die alone.

To Cindy, when soft voices die

the vast N.Y. tide
pulling my heart
further up and farther in
my downfall, exile and escape

amid this watershed
your clear aquamarine eyes
laying the follies flat
conquerable

i am unable to heap
roses innumerable
but - see how our glimmer
in that moment escapes towards forever

The Golden Apple Gathers Dust

Poets Lovers and music-makers
Carnal takers and mental fakers
Indy men a dollar less than dime

Looking for something more
than a cardboard artist whore
running out of youth's time

Lack of self makes an empty shout
transparent alignment without a doubt
Wasting you and I: sorry soulcrime

oh you fool of a bard
now i've played the last card
the debt will begin to play a part
interest you'll pay on the heart
a trade-in desperate to be made
for a shiny new one without fade
i pity your fancies when they cease elation
discarded with a stamp of mental expiration
playing stalemate with your feelings
is no means to any pretty endings

end of counterculture

it was during
long winter of mind
early mid twenties
discovering an unromantic end
to legacies of post-teenage frenzy

color has dissolved
back to black
grey undertones
eyes left with
thin film of disillusion

there were no minds of my generation
to be destroyed
they came pre-chewed unquestioning
in vain i looked
in madness i seethed and mourned

for that which had never
even been there
laying my gauntlet down
among the clover
looking at the sky no longer the river

If you really want to hear about it

a field of waving rye
under autumn's dawn sky
laying down to dream
folding thoughts to stream
others can't find me there
yet I'm seeing your stare

golden niche hid deep in my mind
hazy field where two catchers find
a rest to lay their hearts akindle
inside spirit that has no dwindle
but my boldness ends at your eyes
left with lonely rebelgirl cries

they've never put a song in my heart-hand
wherein lives the passionate demand
for me to be waves of caressing rye
underneath your pleasureful autumn sky
but whatever comes with cold winter's bend
for your smile only, everything I'll fend

Even the shell cries out inside, for the ocean

your eyes like a dream i've seen from afar
undressing me from many times before
in my sleep its your touch i'm feeling
in my mind you have always been creeping

what is to be said of old times,
and sad lines,
and missing kisses dressed up
in tequila limes?

First Impressions

2006
The sparrow and bluejay
had convened and turned against
the crow

Colorado Dreaming

"There are three classes of men;
lovers of wisdom,
lovers of honor,
and lovers of gain."

Plato