Marine Drive

She rests on a window bench
Her cheek presses the sun
Her other cheek, cold and wet
Crying steady without a sound

Fresh flawless shoulders meld
To glass pane and painted wall
She pushes all she is into the junction
Where star of day and interior tarry

Steady without a sound she cries
Looking down at her painted toes
Ten tan morsels flashing cherry
Blessed by her silent weeping

From the window bench she sees
The catalyst of her drippy tears
The old truck parked a block away
And even now she feels the tweed

Tweed under her lithe bare legs
Her father driving and oblivious
The boy to her right, deliberate in his touch
Smallest finger resting gentle

Against her radiant virginal thigh
An orgy of purity and inexperience
A circuit of innocence and warmth completed
Her tiny golden hairs bright like filament

On the window bench, her tears recede
She rests her dewy cheek on her knee
The boy takes with him what she has given
And she wants it back to give to him again

Escalator

Turbulent eye
Shift and switch
Follow and trip
Over every her

Delay delicately
The shared moment
The secret moment
Of certain possibility

Refrigerator Magnets

I embrace and know a
.....radiant gift

Righteous beauty that heaven
.....deliver ed

Sister weep ing red passion
.....angel heal ing

Klara

Glimpse a smile from one who knows
The power of all resides in her touch
Glimpse the plushed velvet of her ankle
The imperfect perfect ness of that swelling

Shirker of carnal candy maker, laugh
Narrow your eyes and destroy the stolen glimpse
Shirker of bruised egos and dented wallets
Sentimentality never visited your church

Meander close to me with that macabre heart
Dazzle me with the threat of uncertain violence
Meander across the plane of oops-that-felt-okay
Breakfast isn’t just for breakfast anymore

See the World

Last night

I lucidly dreamt myself to the Waffle House
to write this poem. Everything I wanted was
there: Lucky Strike, scrambled eggs, a jukebox,
a truck driver wearing a poofy vest, someone to
call me honey, sticky spots on my table, sticky spots
on my hand, Lucky Strike, “I got friends in low
places,” what are you looking at, partially completed
crossword, sausage patty, dirty ceramic tiles, Lysol,
hanging orders, spinning orders, paper hats, despair,
yellow and brown, Special!, silent eaters, Lucky Strike.

Tuesday, Double Feature, $1.50

When the shifting dust beam stops
illuminating the silver screen
and the lights come up slow

Let out
the ancient blushes
the awkward rolling
of credits and red carpet
kernels, Coke, Milk Duds
shameful dilated eyes
sleepy, heavy, tired, eyes

Let out
into the quiet downtown night
dreaming historic main street
men alone and running to cars
couples’ quick cold stroll towards
the defroster
the hard vinyl
another dark theatre
with dual action wipers
silver screen windshield
engine running, vapors exchanging
again
but seen
this time

Let out
ancient blushes
covered by night
and defrost fans
fizzing up two spines
in a carbonated cab.

Majesty

I.

I heard a rumor
About the past
The distant past

Past that whistles
Down a dark wet road
In black and white
Overhead crane shot

Past that comes home
Loosens its tie
Watches the nightly narrative
Someone did something


II.

Rumor has it
The killer once tried
And found guilty
Walked with the body
Of the murdered
Strapped to his back

The distant past
Bound to present
Living under death
Until dieing
From the weight of
The old man

Storage

Says the crow:
I will abandon this carcass on the road
if you get closer.

Says the love:
I will warm you and kill you
if you get closer.

Says the police:
I will frisk you for your secrets
if you get closer.

Says the market:
I will offer you color and intrigue
if you get closer.

Says the Raquel:
I will be your holy derby demon
if you get closer.

Says the piss:
I will take everything I deserve
if you get closer.

Says the moon:
I will make the earth a waning crescent
if you get closer.

Says the phonograph:
I will turn your ears to shiny black circles
if you get closer.

Says the turnstile:
I will obstruct your way into the afternoon
if you get closer.

Watch It

Of what does the odor of sleep consist?
It is we, finally being who we are.
And to witness another in tight-eyed passivity
........is to steal a moment from God.

Room

There is a drop in octave
When the city has its supper
When Main Street is starving for cars
Storefront glass sweating ice
Brick faces ever steady into the night

The marquee glows while the city’s name is dark
Tattoo and Bar prove like skin in the holes of a sock
Sidewalks beg for a stroll
Diamonds and rubies are back in their cells
Black and purple and the electric company
.....hold the city together

And in one hour the credits will roll
The city will yawn
The train yard will shout diesel clatter
.....against
Brick faces ever steady into the night

Voluntary Escape Hospital

Overcast in my living room
Bright and quiet out my window
Winter’s first real snow
Bringing birds to the hanging basket
For breakfast, a snack, lunch, a snack, supper
All they want and they all want
Big and small, timid and bold, gentle and darting
Then Dylan sings in my headphones,
“Sayin’ name me someone that’s not a parasite”
And I want to cry for the smallest bird
The cute wonder of mechanical motion
A sucker

Noise

You have infiltrated their minds
You one, you zero, you color
It is true what the crazies say
You one, you zero, you candy
They know with certainty, here
Dot-to-dot kickers of rocks
Hide it, remand it to the street,
........when the bell rings,
........kick it home.
You one, you zero, you consumer
........of color and action

Kith and Kin

Dingy glass
An impasse
Sheen exalt
Fog default

Get it clean
All chlorine
Erase fog
Dry those spots

Now sip it
Dingy culprit
Rubbed to shine
Coastline wine

Glimmers white
Bouquet bright
Trickle down
Warm and round

Ten Years Later

Abandoned mansions, fallow
Bare skin sweating temptation
To occupy lighted rooms