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Yearly Archives: 2019

New York City Central Park

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Before we knew one another

New York City Central Park

feeding ducks in the pond

Austin making quack-quack sounds

and Tina wanting to go

I looked at you for a long while

before you looked at me

and through my camera lense

I took a picture in black and white

your gaze, tender and aware as if to say

I am here and I’m glad you are too

and I nervous in my boyish wonder

trying to play coy though who was I kidding

tip toeing every word as I so often do

upon first meeting before I muck it all up

with the nonsense I carry like tattered old books

though that day there was no room for Paradise Lost

there was no desire for Walden or Poe

stepping lightly off the curb in those Italian Leather loafers

I thought went well with your hesitant smile

perhaps you felt it too when time stopped

not literally but figuratively as real as a care free afternoon

like that which was the fall in Central Park

and I think I even paid for dinner that night which I couldn’t afford

for all four of us since I had the credit

just trying to be nice, because well

you know, I was happy and I think you were too.

One Philadelphia Night

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I took off my clothes

my skin suit

and rattled my bones

clicked my heels

and down the hatch

I went spiraling forth

into a bleak oblivion

where not even the dark

could hide, I

stood staring into nothing like

a Mona Lisa replica

my conscience hung midair

like a wine stained sheet

pinned neatly to dry

and there were no bones about it

I had completely lost my mind

stumbling down West 4th and Pine

crossing line after line, every time

after time just me, myself, and I

delirious in my delusion

picking homeless men off the street

with tears in both our eyes

I’m no different than you my dear friend

neither are you from I, he said

you’re going to be all right, he said

as for me well, I’ve lived a storied life, he ended

with a reassuring glance as I handed him two dimes

for it was all I had

collecting my clothes

skin suit and conscience

brave the winter, he said

spring needs you

The morning

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I’ve missed you

said the morning

to the man

at the top of the hill.

I’m so sorry

said the man

to the rising sun.

Don’t be sorry, be present

said the wind.

We’ve missed you, that’s all

said the trees.

And we’re glad that you are here

said the sun.

Thank you

said the man

at the top of the hill.

Now go

said the morning

there’s so much more for you to see.

So the man began

his descent into the valley

this time

with only his shadow trailing behind.

until I wasn’t

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All my life

I never wanted to hurt anyone

I just got in the way

until I wasn’t

anymore.

Casco Bay

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Life was shit

and life

was all we had

stuck staring

at the Casco Bay

from a lighthouse

that dark summer

where nothing

would go right

and everything went

predictably wrong.

We held each other

in the morning fog

sharing our breath

as if on life support

barely hanging on

you and I and a plug

but we’d picked blueberries

earlier that month

and though life

was shit that summer

nothing went to waste.

turning sadness into song

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My guitar as of late

has been bringing me

all types of sadness

but it’s a happy sadness

it’s a healing sadness

it’s an honest sadness

I’ve fought so long to forget

that it’s funny how

with no one listening

except the walls and this

box of cous-cous

I haven’t yet opened

but sort of sing to

as it’s eye level on the shelf

where I put my phone to record

I am able to free myself

one melody at a time

turning sadness into song

and song into myself

I sing.

our dying days

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Was she ever happy

or was she just pretending?

Was I?

I agree to disbelieve any such questions.

Foolish notions.

I’ve given it far too much energy

to accept such nonsense

and far too little to concede.

What a crime to disregard our time

together no matter how wild

or foot-dragging it was.

I may be a fool but I’m not a foolish fool.

A pity? No.

We were glorious in our infancy

and though covered in blood and tears

marvelous in our dying days.

So many histories

So many lives

cherished

and now

this.

stray silver

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No one should live their lives

only to meet an ends at the swift burn

of a stray bullet. These are strange

times yet so very familiar as

our history has the habit of showing.

No one learns their lesson until

it’s too late. No one learns the

meaning of life until

stray silver seals their fate.

So get out there when you’ve the chance.

It’s better than to sit and wait.

the Devil’s Crossroads

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Beware the desperate man

though he longs for love

keep in mind he only needs

a friend. And understand

the desperate woman

though pain in her virtue

there’s much strength

in her hand. So when at

the Devil’s Crossroads

wind whipped bodies bare

man and woman tremble

with nothing left to fear.

I see a lot of people

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I see a lot of people

not liking themselves

Whose only hobby it seems

is not liking themselves

Figuring out new ways

of not liking themselves

I see a lot of people who are all the same

holding onto their pain like a talisman

And though it pains me to say it

I’ve still got to say it:

that kettle over there looks rather black.