Saturday, May 23, 2009
MR. BRINK
Here, arguing with a
few pilgrims along the way,
I offered them thick words
that have never been spoken
yet may be our own worst enemy.
For reception, I received just
a rattling in the throats that
followed us out of the train station,
a mob on a bender who have foresworn
any further looks in the mirror.
I am alone among the tented
true believers, I am warmed
by the slow fuse of their blood.
I am besides myself, and willing
to put the rest in hock,
I’ve gone as far as I can.
Monday, May 18, 2009
BACK IN BROOKLYN…
The latticed chain-link casts its’ shadow
and the gods skip a shallow grave.
Zeus ran a moving business on 4th ave,
but never could get laid.
The swan died at the doorstep,
the traffic box clicks Stop & Go,
the street light’s a heart flutter filament,
and I’m nothing, a propped-up ghost
standing between two lands…
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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