City Sonnet

A million lives are packed in this city,
and each one struggles to be its own self:
the starving, rotund, ugly, and pretty --
the tailored and those who buy off-the-shelf.

And everyone fails, yet they all succeed
in being different, while being alike.
And they all heal, while they also all bleed,
and almost all would survive a first strike.

Everyone knows someone - just not neighbors.
They love to remain enigmatic at home,
while transparent with those who share labors --
though some want everyone to leave them alone.

A city is a strange place full of strangers,
and those who choose it thrive on its dangers.

Accidental Travel [Sonnet]

If you can follow rivers to the sea
by drifting without thrashing or grasping --
just let the flow take you upon a spree,
a spree of dunk and breathe, without gasping,

then you will witness all there is to know.
You'll see shaky shanties and vast estates,
the birds in flight and creatures: fast and slow,
the weeping willows, and fish tempting Fates.

If you can roll around the rocks -- always --
and never crack your head and silence all
the voices saying you've reached your end-days,
and never rush and never, ever stall...

If you can do all this and keep the flow,
it won't matter you don't know which way you go.

A Day in the Life of a Hobo [Free Verse]

I saw an old man
nestled in a nook
beside the sidewalk,

a plastic jug
of night diesel
beside well-worn,
second-hand boots,

combing greasy hair
with parted fingers,

and rubbing his eyes -
child-style -
with loose fists.

He was awake at an hour
to get to a job
that he didn’t have.

Instead, he’d amble / stagger
along the riverside,

taking frequent stops
to taste the bathtub concoction
made in the bathtub
that he didn’t have.

And somewhere,
at some undefined hour,
he’d drift into
a restless death-slumber
to repeat it all again —
“Groundhog Day” style.

For Those Seeking Immortality [Rondeau Triolet]

To stretch a life beyond the time of trees
be ready for a glacial shift of pace.
There'll be no undulation of the seas.
To stretch a life beyond the time of trees,
the tradeoff is what's quick will pass unseen.
So, what say you, Kings of infinite space?
To stretch a life beyond the time of trees
be ready for a glacial shift of pace.

The End Times Ball [Common Meter]

A sign that hangs on down the street
proclaims to one and all
that coming soon there will be
a Lonely-Hearts Club Ball.

A dance of manic turbulence
where singles 're all & none.
You can come all by yourself, but
you'll never leave as one.

You'll be swept into unity
with undulating hoards.
Bound by bindings you'll feel, not see;
you'll never cut these cords.

So, welcome to the end of you,
as only you can know.
And welcome to the beginning
of the everlasting flow.

For an end is a beginning
of something bold and new.
And a beginning is an end:
'cause we're just passing through.

Westward Run [Free Verse]

Put the sun at your back
run headlong toward the darkness.

Killing days at record speed,
leaning into the terminus,

and you wake up in the light
prepare for another westward run.