summer

my latest

cliff diving
into undulating waves

unseen from this height


under balmy skies



i timed it right




the water is warm

An Abstruse Spring

Smells of piss
and old diapers
rise from this walled sidewalk
despite the cold air
a hawk catches
a thermal past this high-level bridge
gifting her a longer hunt.

Squirrels bark and scratch at a yell
and scurry up honey locusts
in fear
in spite
as if I aimed to steal their seeds.

I kick rocks left months ago
by the department of public works
but with this fickle weather
it's just as well they've been neglected
by the street sweeper.

Here the ground is hard
and my knees know it more
with each year
with each mile.

Here the soil is buried
beneath oil and stone
and I have some distance
above before I know it.

de•sire line

1. The route people most naturally and instinctively take as they pass through a space.

To Good To Not Be True

on that night
I forgot my undershirt at the base of your bed
I forgot all that came before you

on that night
the moon was eclipsed by the earth
it was dyed a Mars crimson
but we missed it

quite heedless and free
these moments were lost
amidst the green flowered fields of your sheets

"this night air reminds me of summertime stargazing"
I'd say as if recalling a season
we've not yet shared

on that night
the whiskey essence on your tongue got me drunk
we listened to vinyl and each other
and began

New York City, 2007

Tonight brought glorious cold augmented by the clear sky and distant stars. Tree limbs still sheathed in ice cracked in a wind's sway as would the rope of a tire swing almost too old to bear a child consumed with oblivious joy.

There exists a peace in the close crunch of snow underfoot and breath made visible, and the trees, if you can find them, would be your audience frozen in attentiveness. Come Spring they will finally take a breath

We need it soon. Too many plastic bags, the extent of our wildlife, have come to roost and settle these limbs.

I am the non-toxic avenger
black scarf (as cape) whipping about in tow
as I ride and glide.

Thanks to your always being a woman.

I remember when conversation became formality fading with our minds occupied by that which we could not cease. I'd hug you tightly, anticipating the day when my arms would return to their sides. I'd tiptoe around… so not to fall in.

I would answer the door in jeans and faded tee to find you buttoned to the neck in something asian and worsted and white, with patent leather, slippery and red, completing your torso below. I would warm your nose with mine and suppress the unrivaled bliss.

This morning I washed my sheets even though I knew you weren't staying.