Echoes of doubt

July 31, 2014

History repeats itself inside my head,

Like an echo in a canyon,

Long after the initial shout

Losing at last that which

The shout was about

And so we read into

What we hear,

Imagining what it is

We felt when we let
the fell words fall,

And translate that which

We thought we said

Into what we need said

Feeling from it

What we need to feel

Not exactly what

We felt at the start

Thinking the whole time

How nothing has changed

When everything always does

And when we shout again

Our new shout falls

Onto ears we know might

Never hear what it is

We actually said.

Hamlet’s lament

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Hamlet worried much to much

About loss of beauty to time’s cold touch

Where it hides when winters come

To deepen the troth on this aging mug

When what we thought as tried and true

Dries up at last like morning dew

And we must live with what we can’t hide

Where then does our beauty lie,

What then do we do for praise

When all we were starts to fade away,

And have we finally made the trade,

For what wisdom’s fingers may have made

How do we become what was new

And resurrect our morning dew?

Bound

Her hair glistens as if made of gold

Not colored gold or as hard

But precious to touch or taste

She tastes bitter like perfume,

But I drink all of her in,

Weaving myself in her stands

Tying myself up with her so tight

I can’t escape, subject to whatever
whim she wears,
unable to taste anything

But what she feeds me,

Unable to breathe but what

She breathes into me

I wear her like a wig

Each strand binding me

Head, hip, lip and loin,

So I can move only when she moves

With each shimmering thread

Biting into me until I bleed her,

Each orifice oozing

As the bonds grew tight.

Rain tastes like wine

July 22, 2014

The rain tastes like wine

After so long without,

The bitter sip

At the tip of my tongue,

Less bitter

The more I lick

Until it all turns sweet,

I am a honey bee

Sipping from moist pedals

Or humming bird

With extended beak

To reach deep

Where the sweetest

Nectar lurks,

Wings flapping so fast

Even the rain

Can’t weigh me down

Yet satisfy what I ache for most

Lust for wine

Leaving me thirsty

For wine I can get

No place else

But here.

Whispering

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Voices whisper in the dark,

A park bench,

Two shadows,

His arm around her shoulders,

Heads learning towards each other’s,

Faces and inch,

And then connected,

Lip to lip,

Both rising from some other place

Easing into this new space,

Into each other,

Sharing more than just

Each other’s air,

Fingers feeling their way

In the dark

Over elevated landscape,

Tenderly at first

Then inflexible,

Exploding inside like

An over inflated balloon,

Hissing its slow release

In the dark,

She whispering

Lost words

Neither needs to remember

In the morning,

Only that it had been said,

And acknowledged

Whispering

Willy’s sonnet: 120

Willy Shakespeare said it best

And not even a bit of jest

To whom he thought it was unkind

And how it changed over time

How need under transgression bows

No nerve of brass or steel somehow

Bear the burden of unkindness shaken

Through the hell of time reawakens

That what was before the tyrant’s crime

The one long time once lost in time

And now how deeply sorrow comes,

After so much hurt and so many suns,

Each side bearing its burden of pain

Each side wearing its garment of shame,

And all as a result was lost

Not seeing what the other cost

What is real?

Monday, July 21, 2014

I keep looking across the river

From my office window

At the hazy skyline

The pin prick of skyscrapers

Poking through the clouds

And think: “this isn’t real,”

This feel for real lost in the haze

I carry inside and out,

Like fog on the windshield

I can’t clear with the windshield wipers

Or even the heated defrost,

Fog growing thicker

As time goes on,

Muddling up what goes on inside

While the world goes on without,

I’m always trying to pierce this fog

I see on the skyline

Trying to learn what transpires

Inside each spire,

Not so much the internal circulation

But how it all works,

What is real or unreal,

What shifts the fog inside

And what can clear it away

So we can all see what is

Really there,.

Voyeur

Sunday, July 20, 2014

I watch the bumble bee

Ease onto the flower,

So heavy the pedals shudder

Each pink lip flashing

With the liquid light of sun

I sweat just to watch

A helpless voyeur

Taking in each move

The bee makes

So I can later

Get it right

The exposed surface

Glistening with

The bee’s attraction

Each projected point

Kissing the bee

As he plunges deep

To collect the plunger

He knows waits

For his busy fingers

To collect,

His face painted pale,

Tasting if not honey

Then something

Just as sweet

In a fumbling, bumbling

Ritual he must

Take part in,

Drawn in,

Sucked in whole,

Unable to escape

Until he has had it all,

And like me

It is never enough.

Night Wings

(After an evening at WFMU’s performance space)

Saturday, July 19, 2014

My ears go numb

With the ache of it

Rage roaring out of each speaker

At full volume

This dark room filled

With these bright people

A flash back to a past

When I lived my life by night

Like a bat or a vampire

My leather wings still squeaky

As I spread them,

Loud to me but lost

In the extreme sounds

That make the walls

And floors vibrate,

Each inch of me exploding

Inside under the assault of sound,

Just as I exploded then

Aching for flight

My night wings could not take

Aching for something always

Just beyond reach of hearing,

The heavy breath, the heavy sigh

The intense touch

Of someone’s fingers

Helping me to try and fly

Points of stone

Thursday, July 17, 2014

We press against the cold stone

Two trolls under

The drip, drip, drip

Of this old stone bridge

Each edge of the

hewn stone

pressing in us

as we press together

soft against soft

until even that

gets hard,

the drip, drive drip

as potent as a

Chinese water torture

Only this is not China

And this is not water,

And the bridge is not

Refuge against the storm

We feel rising inside,

Our lives

Circumscribed

By this arch above us

And the rushing water

At our feet,

The swish of traffic

Rushing overhead

Unaware of our haunting,

We not so much

Fearing sunlight

As preferring the mood of gray

Twilight shares,

Needing no shades of it

To enhance the ache,

No artificial inducements

To increase the edge

Of what bookies out of us

Like points of stone

Consumpion

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

A forefinger rubbed along the lip of a glass makes it moan;

My fingers stained and sticky from dipping inside;

This wine makes me whine from inside out;

Finger to tongue to test this vintage

Before I lift the lip of glass to my lips to sip,

My finger on this rim seeking soft edge

Into which I ache to plunge,

Tongue first and then the rest of me

A sip, and then, alas, consumption

First loaf

Sunday, July 13, 2014

She bakes bread

Each fall

After the first frost,

Clutching the long thin

Handle of the wooden spoon

So hard her knuckles

Go red

Veins thick along each

Finger as she stirs,

Working up the batter

Into a fitful froth

Until it is too thick

To beat,

Taking it out with

Both hands,

She molds it into

A long thick loaf,

Her hands are strong hands,

Gripping it tight as she kneads

Each finger pressing deep

Into the soft dough

Until she makes it hard,

Too tough to knead,

She stuffs it into her oven,

Where the deep heat

Makes it rise,

Makes it perfect.

Love never stops

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Love never stops,

A lost penny rolling

Between the cracks of pavement

Or over the stones and sand,

Aching always

For a place to land,

Clinging to the fingers

That last held it,

Caressed it,

The imprint of love

Lingering on all

Touched by it,

Even ever rolling

To some unforeseen crevice

It never intended to go

A constant memory

Of that one moment

When love

Like a brand new penny
still shone bright,

It remembers

It never ends

It always renews itself.

It tastes fine

Saturday, July 12, 2014

I touch the tip of it with my life

And it tastes fine,

I trace the curve of your lips

With the tips of my fingers

Feeling the shudder

Quivering in both of us,

The quake of earth

The shake we make

With each spark

Our hearts start

When flesh touches flesh

And we slide into a place

We never expected to arrive,

The tips of fingers or tongue

Pressing into you,

Seeking some pleasure

The taste of you

Linger inside of me

A never fading memory

I would not shake

Even if I could

Bound to it,

As if to the earth itself
no quake can shake from me

Tasted your taste,

Smelling your scent,

Touching all of you

With all of me,

I touch the tip of it with my lips

And it tastes fine.

Life’s choices

Saturday, July 12, 2014

I sip from the lip

Of this cup

I curl my fingers around

Round, warm, spilling

Its sweet juice into

My ever hungry mouth

The harder I squeeze,

I am a honey bee

Hovering with

Stinger and nimble fingers

Choosing which to use when

To sip each drip

From the lip of this cup

Or to plunge deep

To seek sweeter juices

In the depths of this flower.

Ah! Life’s choices

Never so sweet

Glowing

July 11, 2014

Sunset dances

Through my rear window

Like pixies dancing,

On dust particles

with promises

Of magical things

I live my life

On the edge

Of outstretched

Fairy wings,

A perpetual Peter Pan

Dreaming of being

Taken off to

Never never land,

Settling for the whisper

Of wind and

The stirring of dust,

And the glint of

Sunset decorating

The edges of my life

When I can find

No better illumination

Perhaps knowing

Deep down

Nothing is better than this,

Flying on this trail

Of pixie dust

That leaves me

glowing

This heat inside

Thursday, July 10, 2014

The humid air

Presses against my skin

Like a long, wet kiss,

Each step I take

Pumped up my blood

So I boil

Inside and out,

The wet tongue

Of the July heat

Moving over

Each curve of me,

Stirring me up,

Making me feel

Naked walking

Under the beat of sun,

As I make the most

Of the tenderness

And tension,

Struggling to rise

And finally feeling

The intense release

When I reach

The top,

The green world

Exposing its rich interior,

The fallen petals

Violated by

The recent unslaught

Of rain,

Though it would take

Noah’s flood

To fully release

This heat

Inside.

Over and around

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

The sweat dribbles down

My cheeks as I walk

Up the stiff incline of

The viaduct connecting

Hoboken with Union City,

And Union City with beyond

The rub of cloth

Against my chest and thighs

The heavy breathing,

The rhythm of movement

In this overheated air

And the taste of salt

Sweet with sweat

That drips onto my lips

And into my mouth,

This life journey,

Up and down

In and out,

Over and around,

Pressing me firmly

Against powerful urges

I cannot resist,

Nature I cannot overcome,

Though ache to surrender to,

But must keep moving

Or fall in on myself

Like an overheated sun

Twisted into a black hole

Of smoldering desire