Just got that look out of you,
the one my cat gives me
when I pet the spot she
just cleaned so diligently
with sandpaper tongue.
Not again, I hear you thinking;
it’s scribed in the arch of your brow.
It’s been six days on the wagon
and I’m being dragged behind it now,
hanging on to the undercarriage
by a teardrop of hope
and my eyes locked with yours.
Utter Nonsense
This Spewing, fuming
Blazing explosion
Of creation energy
Beauty, Transcendence
The measure of
a painting’s value
Is the degree of sensitivity in the artist
That capacity of feeling
I was crying at the light on the trees
An entire day
With never ending depths of beauty
I couldn’t miss
It blazed by like a train
Emitting the smoke of a thousand cigarettes
The Breath of God raining down
Seeping into our frog skin
“I summoned the breath of God around a beautiful tree and that just takes too many cigarettes”
-Goldie, in response to my noting how much I smoked today.
Vibe is right
Escape from news
Lost in music
another space
letting go of everything
We all need this
I needed this
So much, so much
New Yorkers all in the same space
place\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
I let you put the picture on the wall,
my wall,
that wall;
a reminder of past oppression
fraught with sadness.
It darkened the room.
The winter was long and cold and stale.
In the spring, I wanted a fresh start.
Let in the light.
Let the air flow.
I moved the picture and you were so angry.
You said I had promised to keep that picture right there
on that wall
before us forever
as your memorial of our oppression,
but we had never had that discussion.
You can’t hold the walls of my house hostage
any more than the walls of my heart.
The picture is embedded on my heart
but I have made my peace.
What I’m saying is, we weren’t ready back then.
I think you knew it, too.
All I could do was hold out hope that one day we would get another chance.
This is our chance.
I’m not letting you go this time.
spearheads and arrows litter the atria
fatigued from filtering poisonous blood
canaries on the battlefield trilling danger
picking through the body’s decaying cavities
akin to a festering wound, a mindless disease
carnally bestowed on the altar of pleasure
desperate for the antidote or noah’s flood
warfare ravages for another millenia
It doesn’t feel like
irritability, though,
at all. It feels like…
being on your knees
in Times Square begging for help
and being told
No.
