...familial misnamings...

cousin is far too detached

sounding and I think

that had I called to you

as a brother, or

an uncle, maybe we

could've had you for longer

or just another day

for me to tell you this.

...sad song berry...

the sad part

is that we sit

and wait for a blip

on the radar

flicker of hope

red LED on

vibrate mode

the sadder part

is the chorus

but it needs

to be drafted

some more

...cousins...

never said goodbye to your son

and now you

with all the distances

that living

each of our lives

creates we seldom

see how far one ocean

is from the other

because it is a real space

unlike the kinds

I have created in time

and place

(forgive me for not

being graceful here

but I miss the hell

out of you guys)

In Memory of Bruce Schroeder

...listening to Embryonic...

one must start thinking where

you are and where one

is right now

the time that you believed

this to be true and real

not a figure in the sky

or a hand on a face

but a sense in the mind

or the ache in the knee

things that show passings

rings in the tree

grooves of the valley

the distrust in man's

inventions and facades

or how you've embrace them

here we are now

into the origins of this

playless drama

the queen's death

the outpooring of love

the birth of a new one

through time

see the sun

its trying again

but we are not here

to follow this tail

or toil in it's shine

we must raise it up

and prevent us from

dying again

...cultivated...

his discovery:

the planks are loose

out by the old shed.

when he tore it away,

a garden was left.

This he keeps up

and finds paths

to whichever sense

he wants to explore.

...back to life...

bring me

back to life

once again

into warm airs

and coiled sheets

sweet with sweat

and spilled glasses

of cool water

when this life wants

to end

once again

...missing points...

conscious of the fact

that words can damage

with equal force

fist or foot

I did not mean

to kick or scream

only to tell you

that you are beautiful

beyond your skin

and that this

is a fact

...domino...

2:30 am mind wandering

to claustrophobic tenant's sounds;

chains in the ally way?

long drawn out attempts

at low rent burglary?

bound slaves in shackles?

Stupid, stupid mind at 2:30 am

they say "Domino, mutha fucka!

Domino..."

...cats on Pine...

cats on Pine

need not a reminder

that we don't write

cat poems here

but we will take

photographs

of feral lifestyles,

lions in the ally

way next to Sect 8

homes who feed them

(the neighborhood

predators aren't packing tonight)

keep cool cats

keep cool

no words on film

just you and the night

and all that dissipates

into it 

...los nachos pollo...

los luchadores

flying in place

settling up to the bar

under-crossing the top

rope and deadpan

catching a wave

(afterwords

chicken nachos,

the American invention)

...plastic...

we haven't forgotten

to water the plants

nor have the dogs

gone slaking after

an empty bowl

we have done

what we have been

asked of and we have

been attentive

to each and every

need they may have

(the plants are plastic,

by the way)

...next to...

next to nothing

is not a comforting

phrase especially

if that is what

you are next to

...strolling Hoboken...

the lady in black

breaking into her own

apartment and my

instinct to help

brushed aside

by a guilty laugh

as she falls in through

window, big black back,

curtains throwing

themselves out

onto Washington Street

as I head down

to see another

women through

Maxwell's big windows

...corruption in Jersey City...

a 42 dollar ticket

a smashed and defiled

front driver side 

courtesy of the city

of Jersey City

and the street sweeper

with a grudge:

next you'll tell 

me that the university

gave my poetry class

to a full-timer.

They did? Do they

drive a street sweeper?

Thought so.

...about face...

there is a conversation

here and just

the words have

missed the medium

or taken the wrong

canvas through

the forced actions

of the fools we are

and the books

we face

...wondrous...

with this inundation

and welcomed overflow:

the beach-side-shows

stadium oversells

packed dirty loud clubs

one wonders

when will it stop

being wondrous

but is not worried

...vaporous...

the thickness

of water

in the air

finally your summer

of old returns

and the scintillated brows

glistening off

of all the people

in the park

shimmer

like we knew they would-

this is the air

we are used to

...no bodies...

nobody

awaits

the

call: Nobody

sending

one

in: No body

there

but

a

tone

...there...

prayer go home

we say stay stay

up with us but

pray to go home

divide the road

punish the earnest

reward the servant

take a swing

there prayer boy

there there

...forty ahead...

the woodblock

carved in forty year

fields, their home base,

familial food familiar

with legacy of discarded

wealth, the pursuit

of it, the hotel

torn down

sleeping in what

we have to,

pillowing whatever

we can.