Wednesday, December 29, 2010


in this new year

ketchup becomes mustard

skips become leaps

fours become twos

let us sing and chat

about the hot dogs

and burgers, falling apples

at the picnics we dream

about on these cold

winter white days

we sing to keep warm

we sing to keep our waters

from crystalizing

(even though that image

is worth the discomfort)

in this new year

we sing cause we have to

opens up the lungs

Monday, December 27, 2010


fall snow fall

keep the trees

in secrecy

the sidewalks

held quiet

drifting up

over the cars

dunes of soft crystalline

white gliding up waving

in the wind's curve

god's weathering example

in time lapse

(he has done this to geological

formations all over the globe;

this is just a microcosm)

Friday, December 24, 2010

..I'm hero...

in the blast

of cold you shelter

me in your shield

poncho-packed punches

hoody-fury and furry

holding in fear

that wind may

take me away

which is not an injustice

you could stand

idly by and watch

this is your street

too you know

Thursday, December 23, 2010


subtle as subtlety

tipping slightly to the right

spirits (liquors?) sightings

tonight's quick stutter-step

and trip into the dream

the man walking behind

you talking to the gods

asking for some change

not the clinking kind

but a different path

something involving iron

maybe 5th Street

or 6th or maybe

in the dream

he is a shoulder closer

than he should be

and the shadows

of former alleys

and embankments are now

aglow with anticipation

and hope as she wakes

turns over

breathes deep

into the covers

on the morning

of the first day of winter

Sunday, December 19, 2010

...twice before...

you said you would

never sing these songs

again but you reneged

and here you are

emotionally vulnerable

sexually frustrated

lyrically derivative

why bother?

It's gonna hurt me.

It's gonna kill when you desert me.


Friday, December 10, 2010

...the occasional applause...

heat being on

you: being of sound

knowing the bass

in my voice needs

to be taken out of

the subs and that wood

panelling on walls

creates thunderous echoes

the occasional applause

rumbles from bulky trucks

thrashing by and emergency

vehicles that stop traffic when

we are breathing too heavy

or need resuscitation

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

...wood floor...

image this:

the floor is covered in wood.

The wood floor.

Titans of indie ashtrays only sing

off key because it's cool.


Last week, we made flowers

from our underwear.

This week we wear flowers

as underwear, but where

do you draw the string?

On the wood floor, of course.

On the stage with the wood floor,

of course.

Saturday, November 27, 2010 one...

moving three

into the space

of one is not

as hard as it sounds

just take away two

and become one

Thursday, November 25, 2010

...cellular light...

in the cellular light

the images of smooth

skin are actuated

by the truth of the curve

and the honesty

that brings beauty

into the light

into our images

into our images

of imperfections


I am the one

to blame for making

Jessica Simpson fat

when we really know

it's genetic (I mean

look at Homer)

Thursday, November 18, 2010

...falls apart...

tomorrow butterfly yourself

call this season an "it"

eat more air than bread

kiss all the grills

with gold and spark

inlay upon lampshade

tomorrow's dearth of dark

signaling in the sons of sun

Saturday, November 13, 2010


move these bookshelves

with the tips of your fingers

move them like turning

their pages and riffling

though their stories

move these bookshelves

and dust them along

the spine, place them

in boxes

move these bookshelves

find new books

play with them

place them next to

new books just finished

which I guess now

are the old ones too

(repeat these steps)

Sunday, November 07, 2010

...thirty five...

did you post speeds

bicycles are vengeance vehicles

cars are bullying fat kids

we liken transportation to sport

gathering titles instead of tires

points on pointed crosswalks

angles on the acute actions

of pedestrian antics and tourist

hips into traffic and rear views

we are closer than we appear

we were only doing thirty five

mothers and fathers feared

further accelerations

panicked baby buggies

teetering too tightly

in the traffic's tense flow

(I am always alarmed

by this lack of forethought)

Wednesday, November 03, 2010


nestle is the nicest

term to use when

the apple sits in the cloth

clinging to the water

from the wash

(wait til the juices

nestle into the buds

then this term

turns true)

Tuesday, November 02, 2010


if the house is not in order

then the man of the household

is not a mirror reflection of his waste

nor the previous occupants'

soiled rugs, crumpled wrappers,

it is a promotion of the work

that has yet to be done

and the acknowledgment

of the approaching decades

necessary to undo all that had been done

when the house was neglected

when the house wasn't ours

to live in or maintain

Friday, October 29, 2010 sidewalks...

if you leave the page

for a moment you may

miss the first time

you fell for the line

that truly moved you

or the images

that stayed with you:

the dog with the look

(you know the look)

a family of geese

long in the intersection

children bouncing

the ball off the chirping car

lines of ants parading

into pillars of rusted dust

you see it a different way

because you see the world

is a little smaller each day

that there are a few less lines

left in the black ribbon

that dries too easily

in the drafts

through the window pane

ideas on the sidewalks

Thursday, September 09, 2010


pay the little poet please

he needs to feed his needs

she wears all of her wears

please pay these people

a little pay please

(it is starting to get cold out)

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

...after war...

these aren't questions of faith

these are questions of a record

of history and a map of a world

we haven't been able to chart

because of the divine hand

that continues to pull people's

pulses from each other

further from agreement

into the throws of war

after war after war

Monday, July 19, 2010

...first question...

can I have

a pen

and a piece

of paper

to write up

the guest list?

Saturday, June 26, 2010


on that steep incline

the lawn it is called

I have the people

around me that I have

brought together

in the most beautiful

moments of their

sonorous lives

and those that you

four have conducted

in there nightly

dance rituals

Thursday, June 24, 2010

...playground rule...

still by the water

she sits stares

wonders if the fabrics

will be for her dress

or her doll's

wonders why all the others

skip when they walk

when she can only

slowly stride and take time

with each line she has

to create or fabricate

out of those

moment's pure

sublime pause

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


if I ask them what school

you were from or

what movement you were

part of

they would not know what

to say

they failed the test

and failed it gloriously

Sunday, June 13, 2010


the clock facing the city

never fails to alert

those who work there

that they must come back

here to where the clock

stands and where the rent

and energy bill

is part of the the unending

plan to keep us at bay


in late spring

her black dress

takes its time strapped

tied in bow across the painted

mural between blades

of shoulders

showing the shadows

that the night

tries to hide

with its coy dark

absence of a light

barring the candle

which makes waves

of the air as visible

as the constant
shimmering eyes

Saturday, June 12, 2010

...invite to a bbq...

we are invited to a bbq

in your back yard:

you ask us to bring a bbq

and a back yard:

Thank you for having us.

Thursday, June 03, 2010

...constructive construction site..

when you bring the poem

to them and I mean by truck

by payload after payload

brimming in the bed

overflowing the hitch

taking each line

and lugging them

over the shoulder

over to the house

you are building

and show them how to

set the posts margins constraints

they will tell you

that they are grateful for this lesson

for bringing the poem

to them and reconstructing it

so that they too can go in

construct their own

drive their truck

Monday, May 17, 2010

...turn signal...

the threads of the blanket

tossed against the pillow

with her hair's fine silk

tracing it like maps

of highway service roads

is more than his heart

can take as she mumbles

something wonderfully silly

in her sleep, something

about his blinker being on

Sunday, May 16, 2010

...missing dogs...

have you seen

my dog we haven't

seen him either

or her actually

we haven't had them

in so long

that my allergies

are returning

Tuesday, May 04, 2010 hundred and twenty six thousand...

this is my 126,000 miles

scar, spreading and spewed

across the southern sea

this is my 126,000 miles

of 'filler'

this is my 126,000 mile

road trip for seven years

this is my 126,000 mile

slick, up and down the coast

this is my 126,000 mile

stain, a strain on the shores

this is my 126,000

faults and flaws

this is my 126,000th

time I've put the mileage

back to zero

this is my 126,000th

fuck up too

this is my 126,000

this is my fault

Sunday, April 18, 2010


field: there is not a vision

satiate: there is no free lunch

parody: there is no life real

sealed: the lunch is bagged

confrontation: there is no front

blasphemy: there is no belief

indulgence: there is no more left

acquiescent: there is no more refusal

field: there are no more visions

Saturday, April 10, 2010

I tune with your tunes

and then swap spit

mac to cheese

cheese to mac

white to white

the log flumes

the shameless rides

and cornered DJs

watching the boots

the hot dog queen

the fiasco of the business-

man's hairpiece creeping

the unstoppable requesters

who fail to see

that we don't take requests

the Jewish girl

who feigns fervor

(tip your bartender

she's my kinda girl)

Saturday, March 20, 2010 o bike...

bike o bike

sun o sun

light o light

run run run

over the shore path

under the dirty bridge

behind the foundry

beside the edge

of the pot hole

porous pavement

save your tires

from bad behavior

Monday, March 15, 2010

...losing count...

there is nothing tragic

about a countess losing

count of her heirs

losing count of her wealth

losing out on this death

of a count

of an account

of a lifted pace or face

of course she is this disgrace

and the knife bring her stasis

cold cold normal stasis

level upon level upon level

of made up make up

countess lose count

of your break ups

fake cups

lips too

million upon million

into your counted oblivion

Sunday, February 21, 2010


in abstentia

what can replace the body

or the sensual

taste touch tonic

the denile of essential

oils and fragrance

loyal to you and I

and afraid

of growing wilder

not older

in its absense

Saturday, February 13, 2010


a smile on her face

turning upwards

until it reaches skies

(that process)

Thursday, February 11, 2010

...cold melt...

the snow left

behind is no match

for the sun that wants

to glare through

make the water

cold in the power

that it wields

even at this particular angle

and time of our day


you can only

feel so much for them

before you start

to realize that you

are suffering just

the same as them

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

...white piles...

thank you for this white blessing

and this day of white reflection

as the white piles up

and the white pillars fall

all the way to the street

only to become grey

not the way it is supposed to

be not this white purity

that takes away this grey

pavement and dismay from us

so that we can blanket

today anew and start with

the snow, finish with calm

that it has brought

in the guise of a storm

Friday, February 05, 2010

...warning or watch...

never a surprise

even to the predictors

of depths and images

and snowdrifts

radars and crystal

ball rooms full

of white and grey and pink

clouds with latitudes

and longitudes for tattoos

salters and spreaders

to first instigate

then deaden the pain

that proceeds frostbite

and white out blind winds night...

knowing that red

at the dance red at the light

red in Harlem dancing

to the cold fears that

are outside the buildings

and circling the streets

warm inside warm and red

on the side of the walk

and the tread of the boots

as the song sings its chorus

and you sway red to the beat

to the red light

and the red red night

Friday, January 29, 2010

...coin for candidate...

except for the language

what it is that we don't get

about this flawed communication

that is so infuriating?

I know this is theory

not faith or even morality

but you cannot give away

the password to the vault

or the key code to the file

to the one with the most

in the vault or least invested

in your time and word;

this is not a supremely made decision

this will be the birth

of the most false notion

of democracy, one

that is fully emblazoned

on the next pressing

of coin

Saturday, January 23, 2010

...short and unsteady...

bicycle in the way

of repetition today

and all those gulls

that flocked to the sagging

spot by the water

cramped up in the cold

want my flight

not their own to take

them south or a place

where an organs can pump

blood faster than the cold

air next to the Hudson

will allow, shallow breathes

slower beats, wheeze

Saturday, January 09, 2010 of the book...

Bookshelves are transparent.

I wish the books were.

They wouldn't weigh

so much. I wish that the pages

were as light collectively

as they are when they are lonely

when the reader takes one

into their hand, holds it there

wisp-in-the-wind light, no pounds

no hard cover to hide between,

revealing the weight

of the words. This should never be

with complete transparency.