Saturday, January 21, 2012

Above the smog I stand for joyous breadth

Above the smog I stand for joyous breadth,
As swirling breezes grasp the air to stir
Against my flesh a mellow molten bliss
That catches brusk September leaf and twig.
I step once up again step I on toward
Life's oaken grove, that shades the shore of pond,
Which greets with lovely Sprite a dance while she
May wait away these balmy days all free.
Though soon I must my way come down from haze,
To find that Sprite and oaks for me long razed.

Hello, is what you dream

Hello, is what you dream

flight, soaring, and the suCH?
toward heaven-white clouds

(quartering with sickly ponies,
those mOments between
life's happens,
collapsing-heavy-hoof splashes
turgid-wise in mud-ded frowns)

Breathing Warm Welcome. Hot-foggy-open-circle mouth of
Welcome and bosom in to lay, with heart beats, with hot breath, with forever

(left-gone-in between torture
the moments in between Judas-cradle torture
hours-days-week torture
in that instant gone)

Warmth wakes me up to snow fall.

to ee cummings

anyone does listen,
while carpet-seated among attentive others
poems writ
by dead another
lurk invisible,
sui generis Ah!s
unshared yet

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

sometimes the magic is so intense

sometimes the magic is so intense,
we fallheadfirst intoa gully to remain trapped
(fearwrought) from escape
by some tall walls
that ants slide
and by more magic (at midnight or dawn),
then any(Gustavo or Sam)one can be free

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Where Now the Empire Stands?

Before chartered ships landed,
What was New York?

An island, cold with trees
And naked rocks?

Were rolling hills flattened
By dense concrete slabs,

And how did the air taste
In each gently retained breath?

Sweet, like deciduous maple-drip
And gentle water briskly running from

Gathered raindrop-reserve,
Where now the Empire stands?

Were shepherds singing only for
The audience of their echoes?

And did time exist?
Oh Time, because if you did,
How much younger you must have been.