Monday, November 07, 2011

...returning to darker forms...

nice to see you white

page turned black with back

inking and slaughtered

to create the darkest dye

nice to see you with

your pen in hand

waiting for the next

message or signal

to leave marks upon

Friday, September 23, 2011

...waking feet...

with these dogs

aching and these dogs

waking you up

when will your feet

rest from working

we only have two feet

you only have one

dogs have four

they are better

than some

Thursday, August 18, 2011


you are either

in or out

there is no between

or betwixt

no kinda or sorta

no maybe or baby

you are either

in or out

those are the rules

Sunday, August 14, 2011

...rain through...

still beating droplet

left untouched

unsounded by echo

left disturbed

in the natural

aqueous state

Wednesday, August 03, 2011 era...

we all need

the family discount

even if we haven't

been familial

in years

Tuesday, August 02, 2011


shorts show

short on money


that are empty

when cutoffs

slice deep like wounds

empty sockets

worn joints

seams holding together

only to keep your

junk about you

from losing that too

symbols of slump

economic downturn

we never inherit

full pants

always just short

Friday, July 22, 2011

...ninety-two at midnight...

of oppression

this thick warm blanket

of heat bricking

on us like a house

hot and moist

a deadly sadist sees

the heat in waves

the street

curls and cracks

the roofs are no use

the night is nothing

but dark and heavy

ninety two at midnight

is just not right

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

...two years ago today...

the back of the menu

had the names of all

of the night's acquaintances

but not yours, and that

is the only one I needed

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

...sans cloud...

sans cloud

sun mood

in flight

movie moody

stuffed stubborn

like butt-born pigs

them pregnant trees

sun move

move star

across the pie

the entire pie

Friday, June 24, 2011 other truth...

when the harmonium

plays we can hear history

as a clear signal

not the cluttered mess

we find in the books

we read or follow

as truth

there is no other truth

than music

Friday, June 10, 2011

...held court...

on the grass

the ball skids

a little

and the kids

slip up drinking

cup along

the painted lines

to be fair

it was a sprinkle

little bits

of rain

Monday, June 06, 2011 ocean...

to shake things we had not

shaken in years and not

stirring but shaking

like the waves collapse

or the beat of the drum's

kickback, echo, location

on shore

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

in all repairs

aiding the band

still bleeding

leaking oil

breaking down

needing a tow

to the next gig

still managing

to crash into

the same garage

each and every night

Monday, May 02, 2011


the kill mission leaves

no words from the target

in that silence

the fear begins to rise

and the backlash

across the skin

is the true test

of the choice we made

Sunday, May 01, 2011


we can stop

fighting now



was it a firestorm

or a sniper rifle

a siege or a candied

apple with razor

was it quick and unexpected

or was it long and tortuous

as so many want it to be

if there is any truth in all of this

the world can't be a better place

but we will devise a new plan

to go ahead and try anyway

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

...shorter days...

if the children

knew that the days

will become shorter

and harder then

they wouldn't be so

quick to say that they

wish they were older.

Monday, April 25, 2011


DeLaughter sang

"Hey, it's the sun

and it makes me shine."

on a day

like today,

but in Texas.

Friday, April 15, 2011


when the dog

barks at nothing

it becomes something

material out of fabrication

ghosts in the walls

she knows something

about history

growls at the clink

of the fence

certain that there

is something up

in the corner

of the ceiling

Sunday, March 13, 2011

we sleep low

like lap-dogs

or land-ladies

into our heads

dreaming details

of distant stints

in different states

in Virginias and valleys

treasured, York city-tall,

Jersey back-yards

both the newer

breed and blood-line

but by the time

we are asleep

we've forgotten

where we were

Wednesday, March 09, 2011

...back into the grass...

back at my side

you lie next to the couch

needing nothing more

than the warmth of a body

close to you and the pressure

of a motionless hand resting

fully on your soft blonde shoulder

while the flashes from the television

go unnoticed in your sleep

and you dream of being home

out of the city

back into the grass

Saturday, February 26, 2011


the unimaginable torque

it takes to fracture the bone

only imaginable

when the calf of the creature

one sees as alpha

once round and tomato-

shaped, but solid as rock,

spirals and splits

with one unknowing step

across the fractured ice

over the fractured concrete

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

...walk it out...

walk it out

the door then

step it onto the street

then swift step down

the block while whistling

past neighbors

a nod or smile

while fiddling

with ears and eyes

and traversing

the melting piles

this will become your habit

we will become this ritual

Sunday, February 20, 2011


intrusion in return

drop in pressure/


barometric impetuousness/

the false start of spring

a hidden shadow

was already predicted

fooled we were again

pig in mud frozen

back in tempered time

lessened with each

wandering week


tempter seeks revenge

cold winded night

when shadows

are shades of grey

darker than seasons

that spawn cold cracked


(it soon changes

into spring)

(if not we stay thawless)

Monday, February 14, 2011

...parallel parking...

the spot in

which you park

is parallel

to the spot

within my heart

(for Steff)

Sunday, January 16, 2011

....icebergs and assholes...

parking is the commodity

amongst icebergs and assholes

in giant tanks and gas guzzling

megaliths trying to parallel

into perpendicular spaces

in cellular time

Monday, January 10, 2011

...frozen puddles...

the cold starts thinking

about tin cans in the street

styrofoam islands in the frozen

puddles on Monmouth

the little girl shatters

with a pink skip fracture

(that sound always got me

like the sound of glass breaking)

her pink plastic boots kicking

into the groaning grey sky.

the cold starts thinking of sticking

to our necks, to our stiff

upper torsos, stale stale morning

breath and fractured

vapor foaming out of the exasperated

mouths of business men heading

to the business day, au pairs huddling

their wrapped white babies,

storefronts cracking the frozen lock

clicking and clanking

the sliding metal up

into its' housing

while the cold takes a crack

at each and every sense

of each and every waking body.

the cold starts thinking he has some

weight to throw around here.

Thursday, January 06, 2011

...face to face...

simply do not have

means all weights

the world

falling shoulders

frayed bits of hair

trickle back

facing away

she faces today

when you do

not know which

way to face

to face