...four lanes...

in these long, timed sentences

where the four walls are the four words

that keep you moving just a little faster

than the four wheels in front of you

you blink and squint, probably four times

peering through the scratched vinyl window

tinted too much to make out nuance

the four passengers in the car

in the next lane all have matching

hats, all have matching stares

all glazed over and pale


the bus passes quickly by

the trip you are on

feels like it will comma splice

and continue illogically,

but there is nothing

you can do about your seatbelt

you are not behind

the giant leather wheel

four lanes from the exit

...calm chowder...

a few years ago

you said you were gonna

try to make it:



I picture you

in the kitchen

cutting potatoes



steaming clams

flour and cream

salting and peppering



in an apron

found in Newton

in a dress



found in Florida

listening to AM Gold

as I came home



with the dog

from fishing somewhere

anywhere near us



           


                                          --MR

...plate...

groomed grasses

checkered the outfield

in a perfect angle

before and after

the inning is held

in each mitt

in each glove

in each player

trying to find home

...seasonal...

the sharp ends

from an uncoiled spring

of the clicking pencil

used to get caught

in the fingerprint

ridges of your thumb

pulling the skin

like a tentpole

or a carp hook

atop your school desk

as you looked out

the window wishing

spring would start




                       

...frigid...

close to cold

passed to frozen

lifeless in neglect

staying in place

too long or not using

them for so long 

                        out of practice

fears of lethargy....

                      There are immediate reliefs 

                       Try warming up the words

"Calisthenics of Cacophanies"

                       Try moving your hand over

The cold parts, the imprecise

Lines and passages, the belly

The fingers               the warmths

defrost the phrase 

in breath's warming kiss

...January 1st, 2014...

I.

even as I left

             I wanted to return but

something pushes 

and pulls in these kinds

            of places, kind skies

with wilder winds-

riptides

with rising tempers

          and temperatures

still a quiet cozy pocket

a corner tucked away 

                                    from the rest 

                                      of the world.

II.

This is the sifting shore

where we stand firm

    in our ways. Our differences are 

never concealed or calculated 

only exalted 

by our necessity-

           the one thing we need 

                              to breathe.

...obligatory morning song...

cold rain slowing soft

in the less than immediate

rise of a single sun

dashed by cumulus

tossed by nimbus

(in the fridge are two

empanadas, foiled in

their plan) I chose the fruit

Bill told me to do so

...stutter...

And the duties of letter

Patronage of pen

Worship of word

Has fallen into the white spaces

Below the deck              Past

The buoy 

Off the edge of the flat faltering

Thinning crisp of an earth

...firing blanks...

there isn't

much of this

going on

these days


(there is much

fear in this)

...clay nation...

shuffle and slide

into the skid and skin

while her feet

shaped the earth

in a wave of red

over the entire

feverish country

looking for the net

fishing below

the orbiting sphere

...flight...

i haven't gone anywhere

folks              just taking

flight

(briefly grounded)

(briefly deaf)

I haven't gone anywhere

few folks      just taking

inventory

(flight delayed)

(briefly delayed)

I haven't gone anywhere

faithful few  just taking

directions

(flight grounded)

(beliefs unfounded)

...nayam...

Good

Buy

Cool

Whirl


*

Itsy and uv th'worl s wee no et


*

Tomorrow no morrow

*

Good

Pie

You

Girl

*

Buy Buy Birdies

*

...gold...

the only other

gold in the world

was set upon her hair

and sun at the end of the day

taking her breath

and image of all the

gold in the world

with her



(RIP Sadie)

...crooked street...

single paved Pavonia

stinking singularly above

the former pavement

eyes glazed like turkey or ham

rain stained bags of trash

that didn't make truck

little dimes bags filled

with sidewalk detritus

cement smokers

the bulbous nosed men

searching for help

Black Friday flyers filing

into potholes to fulfill

other concrete dreams
                             
               of kids and cracks
     
               caught in the crooked street

...so long gone...

i have failed you

dear lover and life giver

to stay beneath your

feet and foundation

to hold ground

for earth not water

I have failed before

and will fail again

you must not be so

dependent upon me

do not stand upon me

I can only stay afloat

for so long

...management...

the green bottle

as the bottled up banger

beats along the street

to find a dime or pickle

out the barrel or feral

like a banger

of bottled up anger

(he is hungry

and wants to reflect

green light

...zooming in...

playing with your thumb

and forefinger, increase,


decrease the size and scale


fixing and touching up


an instant of gratification


is the only image 


during this moment 

...press sure...

you lay your hand

on mine and press it slightly

I look at your eyes 

and press them slightly

with my own

you feel this pressure

like a barometer rising

the nerves you get

when we kiss makes

you stiff

but I will come in

press my lips against

your pressures

and once again

to your lips

and they begin

to turn up

our bodies begin to 

turn down

MCA's Last Day

" Roses are red

Violets are blue

I got my barrel-action now

so what the fuck you gonna do"

                      ---A. Yauch, RIP



While I would love to write a poem here, I simply cannot. I will, just not here. Instead, I offer just a few words to express how important Adam Yauch's voice was to me as a kid. The Beastie Boys saved me from mediocre music. They made me rebel, rebuke, and revolt against things I didn't understand at the time. More importantly, they taught me that a one trick pony really is dead before it hits the farm. That you didn't have to be pigeon-holed and categorized from one project to the next. There was a core sound that is unmistakable in their music, yet each album tried different sounds out. Paul's Boutique will forever be the epitome of music to me. It is one of the greatest albums that has ever existed. MCA's unique scratch and rasp is unforgettable and he used that voice way more off stage than he ever did on it. Either way, he was one of the most definitive voices of my childhood, engrained in my brain, so clear I can conjure it up whenever I want. I usually use the lyrics above because they were just so badass. You will be missed. Namaste.

....of the world...

i'm not worried
about it wither
wane wand threshold
tune trimmed hellhole

the dirty doored studio

nor should you worry
about the weaver
whether or not
the weather changes
to morrow to day to never

the flawed floored floor plan

inside jokes with outside
jackets june bug joints
lit with wick windless
winding strand standing
stalled on the side
of the imploded ediface

the fresh desktop stop

don't be furious
with it wither it like flowers
and skin over bones
brandy dashed stones and rocks
falling over clefts and cliffs

the tall tall edge of the world