I tried to write within the now
in wee hours of a winter night
it seems I always failed somehow
hunched over pad beneath floor light

Each time a line entered my head
and worked its way through pen to page
"now" had already skipped ahead
"now" had become a long passed age

So I tried to write much faster
fingers moving in a rush
results were just short of disaster
jumbled wordsbecamemeremush

by day,
your body a silhouette
dancing along the walls.
it reminds you of existence
but it is only to be
vanquished into the darkness
threatened by the starlight.

The moon flat and mouldering
Is both
Hidden and unveiled

Its sulfurous gleem
A gem upon twilights ringfinger

Casts its ceaseless grasp
On the shining beach
above the cowering tide

Time languors
At the foot of cobwebs
Between the glowing grass

I came to touch my world,
the things I used to feel,
but no intimacy's found,
nothing today feels real.

Not the aroma of mom's cookies,
nor the freshness of the dew
came this morning to me.
Nothing this day smells true.

My eye, once caught the colors
of the rainbow painting the sea,
see none today to wash
my flowers, the grass and the tree.

I'd hear the whisper of the land
the happy chirps of the bird.
I heard the unspoken words,
but all those sounds today fade.

accept the pragmatism of time today ...
guys only love ...
since times immemorial to play ...
today you are trying to pin them down ...
for a while may be or you shall win....

but a time will come again ...
when men will ride all over again and again...
as living- in becomes the norm ....
women want orgasm..
which grand-moms having foregone...

THE SHIELD

The moon was but a clouded gleam,
Its fitful light both cold and dreary,
We heard a hunting sasquatch scream
But could not run, so drained and weary.

Our group, the last of man's resistance,
Were no more than a hundred strong.
The Dark One challenged our existence,
His Orcs and wolves came chasing on.

Each bloody battle fought for homeland
Left fields of dead at such a cost
Kings and Nobles slain, we nomads
Running northwards, broken, lost.

there is a gap of returning green
between tulip leaves and starling flocks
February grey, like the new school building
on West 28th street obscures the sky

architects build squares on top of rectangles
assemble their plans where
place can be an embellished form of reason abstracted
from colors fragility to light-

sit still
the halls are lonely

slick backed visage
streaming shower
stop

like candles
burning fluently
as caresses
smooth as flesh

I am on this train
It is called life
It is never late
Reaching its destination

The journey
Is what you make of it.
The people you meet
The outside you see

The inside
that you see or not
To all an exprience
they remember.

Knowing the journey
A reason to travel
Distance no object
Destination unsure

Then that station
you are going to.
A place so new
The many questions

Then that first step

The streets are silent as I walk
Listening to the midnight talk
My sneakers fall on broken glass
Scattered shards, just like my past

In their houses, they sleep unknowing
Above the trees the light is growing
In the sky there is no moon
It will be daylight, pretty soon

Only darkness feels my pain
In the sun I can’t remain
No, in the daylight I can’t stay
Because I am
The Runaway