TRAINS
summer’s nighttime dreaming
streaming sweat of discontent
sleep tortured till dawn’s light
and morning breezes

trains weeping
high in the night
as they leave the station
waiting
to take me
to safe hiding places

long before the hinterland
the winterland

this

nights against the dark hue of ebony
star raker stellar gardens

walk with me on the wide bermed beachs
sift for the gleam of amber
sip the cup of ambrosia from an
old war flask

"The best of both worlds"

you sigh wiping a strand of
hair from an eye

there are jungles of kelp
in the West you tell me
tall as an apartment block
full of life

you have dived
certified

Coming of Age
Yearly Autumnal advent, foreshadowing
Winter's austere inevitability.
Fragile leaves come easily fluttering,
spiraling to the ground.
Soon to become crisp and thin,
in a state of Mother tree's reluctant discards.
Some rest at her feet
under her branches near her trunk.
Waiting to be raked into piles
until children come to jump in the gatherings.
The more adventurous of her offspring
take off riding the wind to
distant places, without a care

I.
The Arrogant's been here for years,
roaming the Earth, the lavish land,
sowing the seeds of dreadful fears,
with His own brutal, cruel hand.
II.
Most oft than not, He killed his friend
His father, brother and His kin,
and purposefully committed
the forbidden and utmost sin.

1
As deep as the layers of Earth
go the folds of this rumbling tale,
to tell little 'bout hatred's birth
as well as love's successive fail.

that's what I thought
as I stepped forward
my chest seemed to be caught
in the lengthy nails
I imagined to be, too true
yes that was you,....

then a side twist of my body
upon yours curvaceous
jerked me off
as you tried to too,

Your snoring always woke me up
And still does or
So I think when aroused from the
Arms of some mythological god whose
Name I can’t recall.
A torment to find the culprit me,
Because you’re not here,
You creator of sleepless angels you.

The crispness
in each breath I own
announces this time of year;

I exhale
and it seems the leaves all turn.

All possibilities
of spring
pull the leaves to the ground,

then chance
comes into play where each will land.

In the end
the earth is nourished
and time must continue,

thus we are blessed
with harvest's yield for that year;

surrounded by pleasures
we'll find ourselves hovering nearer the hearth,
bundling-up to erase solstice's chill.

BRONX INTO MANAHTTEN

Clickety-clack
trains on the tracks
high above
cobblestone streets
they screech
angrily
spitting sparks at each stop
cars shaking
impatiently.

we vibrate all as one
holding on back to back
to old black leather straps
knees to torn straw seats
sliding side to side
eyes stare ahead
rows of the living dead

There we are, awash in velvet shadows
I mumble clumsily through my offerings of my soul.
The night feels spun on so much promise
The warm air feels too forgiving,
So willing to wrap itself around us
Raise us upon its back,into another time,another fable.

‘He’s back... he’s back..!’
I want to shout out
He has finally come back
After weeks in absence....
Felt his presence all the time
But couldn’t see those loving eyes
Fingers touched him with ease
Though I struggled to reach the mind
Had no problem with the word flow
Yet, for a conversation I could die
Oh... how badly did I miss him
When he was right by my side....
Days spent under fear and suspense
Have finally come to an end
The tinted window’s now open
Giving glimpse of the sun shine