A Good-Bye, Before The Next Hello

Today's the first day of flowers and figs,

of Brazilian Pepper Trees scrawny

not big, and of scrubbing old floors

down on both aching knees,

(but happily not my good luck),

my sore back drugged like a junkie

who lives in the alley out there, it's

here in this empty apartment that I'm

stoned on ibuprofen galore,

I've walked and I've sat on this old hardwood

and tile reading books of poems and art,

now and again a political tome, stared at

the computer screen for too long a while,

it's here I've penned much of my own poetic

lines, whose feelings and words whispered

freedom and fullness like nothing else has,

and what's true for sure is that this floor

stuck thick with three years of greasy

grime waits my attention this morn as I

clench my cracked knuckles and jaw full

of joy, green sponge laden with Ajax and

Comet and Mr.Clean

(Donner and Blixen seem to have flown

this scene, as quite soon I shall as well),

and it's all happening, thank God, in 3/4 time!

?

Is Melba toast,

have you lost

your neighbor

yet, you know

the lusty waif

next door who

moaned scary

and turned poor

Ray half crazy,

as you elbow

and grin big

on your way

home to the

green hilltop

street of the

most spacious

song ('El Canto')

where there's

more room,

more beauty

for lazing

and loving

on longer

afternoons

and what's best,

lots of ground

to plant a tree

or three down

deep into ?

Flag Day

She knew, oh my, just how

and where to touch his fancy,

you know, that worldly place

not secret--oft unspoken--right

there inside where a real girl

gets her guy unfurled, but good.

Ithaca

to simply sit

in pure silence

is not often

easy nor

instantly

pleasing

to become diffuse

purplish tint

from one

broken blue

berry oozing

on new

fallen snow

and for just

a small

spare

moment

if the soft

descending

lacework of

grace enters

this empty

bare room

you may slip

from the

addictive

bonds

of your

stooped

tired self

and become

no one at all

with nothing

to tell, no

branded

goods to

market

or sell

and then

know down

in your bones

the comfort

the freedom

of having

finally landed,

of being

truly at

home.

NEW(D) NEIGHBOR

The red haired burlesque queen is my new neighbor,

yes, she has six or seven cats and wears weird

Turkish hats

but oh god I do love how she wiggles and waves the freedom flag of her half hidden bod,

her undraped silky curvaceous skin while waiting on top of our stoop at day’s rain slicked rear end for her lucky son of a bitch short stub of a hubby,

that quiet bald runt drives a lifted black truck and

gets a testosterone boost, but I betcha’ not much or

enough, while she drives me nuttier than nuts with

the pluck and the suck of those cute fluffy pink lips,

they’re plumper by far than that simpering movie star

Angelina Jolie.

Please don’t tell him with no hair how his wife’s white

swervy flesh and twirling wild teats over there (and there too)

dizzy me crazy and dazed, I feel drunker than a brand new

unfrocked uncelibate monk enthralled and in tune with

the sweet smiling sliver of a lusty red moon,

to tell ya’ the truth, I tell the boys at the shop she has Catholic

school beat, when I gawk and gaze at her unclothed complete

my faith grows by bounds and gigantic leaps, SHE is such a

god damn treat, an answer to pubescent prayers, yes the new gal

upstairs could quickly become, praise the lord one floor up above

(and take out your gum),

let’s just enter her lair, unlock the back door

of Miss Rubescent Love, my fan dangling

big hearted bare savior who's given my tickled

flesh and its' somersault mind one big
loving shove!

Snow Berries

a sprinkle of purplish

berries rests on a

white crust of snow

outside your gleaming

front room window,

inside the heart of

this big house

the heater heats

and the tv speaks

assorted babel to

our warm and

hopeful ears,

and yet, I can’t wait

to traipse up these

several stairs where

we’ll tuck and be

tucked in, and

under, the softest

thickest quilt Grand/

ma ever built

to doze deep snooze

long burrow easy

like shining cozy

berries reflecting

winter light.

COLD DAZE

there are days when the light

fades so early and I feel un/

washed, high heaped as old

piled clothing, days so cold

that stained snow cannot stick

around and my frigid multitude

of wild mistakes make wet hay

toss and shiver like gold dross

on once safe low altitude

frostbitten ground.

While watching a mediocre scary movie on Netlix...

….the neighbor girl rumbles and groans through a thin wall

of semi-separation seeking sleep or a quick orgasm, while

a train miles away moans on and on and on,

it trumpets its solipsistic energies like a lonely virgin or shaggy

bleating mountain goat, lost and wandering in the rain flooded

formidable night, this day was made only of water and now in

darkness all roads are impassable, pavement became streams,

each road a flowing avenue of real wet dreams and my neighbor girl,

no strumpet tonight, finds sleep and sex sadly impossible, she gives

up, stands to stretch, staggers to her tiny kitchen, makes weak cocoa

in a white China cup, opens wider her dry eyes then sits at her laptop

to wander, ignores the sweet possibility of mystery of wonder and she

wastes herself again.

the rain saturates everything now, trees shoes ambitions memory, like

a strange illness, like greed or gluttony or righteousness, and the sallow

man in a dark coat, hatless, no sleep for days, coughs and stares straight

through my front door screen as if it were not there, as if he were not lost.

ONE NIGHT

the sparkling moon

bleeds flowers of

plenty into a

meandering

night,

drops of red

soak and

cleanse

ancient stars

in dark pots

of silence,

you scurry

to catch a

glimpse of

father fate

in time’s

brisk

brown

hands,

then with that

grin I love,

carve your

name in the

swinging gate

of the bluest

galaxy

where it curves

and shimmers

like crimson

clay next

to mine.

the going of Millie

Yes, my attentive friends, Millicent went

quite and suddenly nuts, she cracked up

on a windy night high flying in a wet red

airborne tent,

while earthbound Alfred of a misspent

desultory middle age, sky gazed paced

sweated salt streams of repressed rage.

Yet, all along he feared his darling betrothed,

sweet distracted bewigged Hortense, the

pudding cream of prudish has beens,

had not in truth paid one Honest Abe dead

head cent (or flimsy farthing for that matter)

towards their fucking late inflated rent.

la luna

the lush ripe

fullest moon

issues forth

golden shining

newborns

from its vast

skyblack

queen size

bed.