POESIA*
.
Word thoughts and images floating by like a Slurpee on the freeway. Whoosh!
Boys silly lie underneath
the windowsill of some
girls’ scheme to be the
fairest in the land…
and in other things these
cascades of wonder
engulf the senses.
tactile prickles of ice blue gaze
crystallized
in the sweetness of her moments
languid, long and seductive indeed.
what color would you be
that dawn lights fade…
Walking into the kitchen
piled high behind the dishes
only to peep out in something
she calls randomly
it’s not the humming that summons you
nor the burnt coffee smell,
the candlesticks and ashtrays
propped up in some dish array…
don’t really have a clue,
it’s the longing for a better place
awakened (not achieved),
that dawns light fade.
Purgatory J O N E S
Sand, storm-ing about like
no bodies business
hissing and a’ blowing
Hell bent over to avoid
getting an eyeful of something
red and stinging.
A Mind full of Razors!
Me, I’m sitting this one out,
cross-legged and chanting.
Smiling
with a heart ache
of unspoken questions…
Wondering,
if I even dare to…
wonder
about you.
a g a I n.
H A U G H T Y …
Like her clothes
She clings to the skin
Of her personae
Harsh beauty et al.
Impregnable yet porous
Like dripping honey
Wielding her graces
As if she belonged
To her own longing
For just a hummingbird
to flutter by…
and yet… for JONATHAN
HEY! did you see that!?
it was just a FLASH... then, it was gone.
Streaking through a sky ~the Light~
there once
then G O N E again
~o n l y a T R A C E R~
Flying by.
AMONG US some saw it
others:
scoffed, shuffled papers,
yawned or nodded,
talked incessantly on their telephones, delivered summons, slept in China,
wore torn clothes, ate with their fingers, found things that they’d misplaced,
gasped…
ran red lights, sneezed, said prayers,
scolded children, laughed or cried
or crossed the road etc… etc…
some even discussed it …
~the pros and cons that is~
N E V E R K N O W I N G
n e v e r knowing…
never… k n o w i n g.
That, in its brilliant lite streaming by
a child, crying to exist,
was born of another.
Carefully mothered
into its destiny
by oblivion.
Not politicians, nor painters, not even the
Fish Mongers in the marketplace can phantom what silliness this dream knew.
Flying abandon crazily above
in the sky…
BUT
UPON SEEING ITS LIGHT
WILL WE EVER
BE THE SAME?
la Bella Postina
Vedo I tuoi antenati
Splende attraverso I tuoi occhi
e
nel tuo sorriso
il mondo che guarda
come te
camminando lentamente Iontano…
The Beautiful Post Lady
I see your ancestors
shining (alive) thru your eyes
and
in your smile
the world
glancing along
as you…. walking slowly by
TUESDAY IN THE CITY
Tick Tock (tick tock)
the sound of thoughts
chasing butterflys
goes by.
We, that is, time and I
were once young.
marking passings
with odd themes,
birds calling… jazz on the radio…
grocery carts to mind.
SPACE & TIME
ex it… spheres of dancing
L I F E away
and me, I’m sitting in some chair
watching 11:30 go by…
Nostalgia
winter brings you on like a coat
waiting in the wings … spotlighted
brown, worn (of course)
and fitted to the ‘T’ of
the PA S T …
(SHE) somewhat seductive
although upon closer observation:
avalanches happen only in the mountains
-if you know what I mean-
(SHE) perhaps what could be said to be
wonderful about such indulgences
- like that bottle of red wine
from Bordeaux ’85-
once uncorked and left to breathe,
time -only gets better and better…
FEBRUARY
Messy bits and pieces
promise broken strewn about
were no napkin to catch them
remain…
The table salient
each day this delay, every day
yours for the taking,
in peace, en-joy… in-jury.
What’s to become of all this?
Bearing fruit of seeds we do not remember their sowing, now met in silence, disbelief
or even a shoulders shrug…
Ms. Magoo
ever though the thought: ‘I love you’
rewinds itself around the voice box
of my heart, it is truly tiring to be
your butler!
We’re Different, You and I…
Some are like the breezes
whispering thru the trees
others bounce along
like the falling notes of rock
on a desert canyon wall
There are those
who move like water’s current
~resisting nothing~ and those
whose moves like fire, attract.
each having its own unique signature.
and… then there are those
who are still yet ‘move’ thru space,
not disturbing the quiescence
momentary… or otherwise…
how different we are, you and I…