Sharply edged slate clouds
slicing white to blue skies –
rail car reeks cleaner.
Month: February 2018
Haiku MBTA
First train vanishes –
next weighed down with disgruntled,
commuting sardines.
Dream State
Even the places here are turning
to dreams.
From the bus window, I point out landmarks:
I used to live on the second floor of a blue house down that street
I used to buy lunch from the hot buffet in that market and then skip dinner
I used to feed the feral cats in that park and was especially fond of a black and white kitten
but I don’t remember
the street address, the best entre, the kitten’s name.
Where I was and
who we were
a decade ago, two decades ago,
half-a-century past
is nearly unconjurable,
as if it never,
as if you never
happened
at all.
Doe License
Balanced
like tempered steel, well-honed to slice
and leave
no bruise, the hunter
slides easily between bone, pierces
deftly into the heart and wounds
with a simple twist.
Smoothly,
from point to hilt
he pulls back, slowly
whets blood
from the edge of the blade.
-written about 1993
Published in the broadsheet View from the Second Floor
Attack of the Fifty Foot Ex-Wife
Earth trembles
under the threat of her
footfall,
feats the relentless
press of her heel.
She holds its stones in low regard,
its boulders in open disdain.
Whenever she walks
ground withers.
Where she treads is left
wasted: You have forgotten
your heart in her
path.
-written about 1993
Published in the broadsheet View from the Second Floor
Waltzing to the Juke Box
Bud and Camel-
Lights flavor your affection, stain
your kiss on my fingers. Here
in this public place
where private embraces
ignite
in the friction of the dance,
my hands
open
hungrily for more.
-written about 1993
Published in the broadsheet View from the Second Floor
Fallen Eagle
When memory flutters
then
into now and the physical
feathers
thin,
the hollow
weight of flight
snaps in min-arch and cradled
hands stop
time.
-For Albert Bennett
written about 1993
Published in the broadsheet View from the Second Floor