He was an exile.
Shoved through a turnstile.
Kicked to the burn pile.
One day he walked back.
Followed the train track.
He’d no need for hijack.
Then, sitting on a park bench.
Life threw him a monkey wrench.
And he couldn’t entrench
So he got caught by the eddy.
When he wasn’t ready.
“Not again!” said he.
As he swung around again.
Oh, speak true and from the heart,
did you hear my tiny fart?
I tried to keep it pent inside,
but sometimes farts, too, swell with pride.
i saw a lunatic pacing at the edge of the street
a man overdressed in the way of those who have no place to hang a hat and an abiding fear that anything left out of sight will vanish — no matter how tattered, malodorous, and undesirable an object of theft said item may be
as he paced, his soliloquy never ceased:
“i’ve been down there; i followed it all the way down to the bottom.
“i saw what resides in the bankrupt bowels of this magnificent megalopolis.
“i looked in its burning eyes, and it would have killed me if it’d thought me worthy.
“i won’t flattery myself to think it took pity on me. no. it just didn’t find me worth its effort.
“it’s waiting. you’ll see. you’ll all see. someday it’s gonna bust its way up here.
“that’ll be our judgement day. could be tomorrow. could be in a million years…”
my first thought was that the man was insane and needed medication
my second thought was that any disaster that brings humanity to its knees will be heralded by a disheveled person ranting about an incomprehensible threat
i did the only thing i could do. i played the odds, figuring that since there are far more lunatics than humanity-devouring disasters; i went about my day as usual
there’re a thousand shades of silence
in this city’s wee morning hours
when all the sound could be drowned out
by the faintest of spring showers
each silence can be interpreted
by a person of some expertise
the cop’s silence is a din of dread
that can fell one to his knees
hush to the optimist tells him that
among millions, no one is dying
no sirens tells the pessimist
that silence is sometimes lying
silence tells the worrying parent
that they’ve forgotten to breathe
it tells the strung-out junkie
that the world has ceased to be
harbor, studded with ships
ships made islands by heavy anchors
immune to the relentless undulation of the sea
***
tawdry neon red
pulsing in a puddle
the words unreflected
but the meaning is clear
***
gleaming brass caps
top stone buildings
stout, imposing
a Japanese might say Fudōshin
[– the imperturbable]
sitting on the curb
playing dice with words
praying that they’ll fall into place
sometimes glancing from face to face
seeing eyes flit askance
in such a subtle dance
that if you look, you’ll miss it
i exist
in wave and particle form
two things at once
but, really, many things
if anyone is counting
each new instant, i’m a new thing
only disguised as the old thing
some day, i’ll be gone
that day was today
only moments ago
but a million me’s have perished
and yet the world spins on
city at the end of time
sprawling to the shoulders of reality
spilling into the sea
sprouting vents from the ocean floor
to breathe the collective exhalation
a planetary breath
bubbling toward the surface
but lost in churning seas
and wind tears through urban canyons
that crackle the surface
as seen from the satellite sphere
glints from a glassy past now subdued
plasma windows play a bucolic reality
that residents pretend is true
we are a mole people
in the under-story of a mechanized canopy
Oh, the glorious monotony
of mountain skies
an azure dome
in rare air highs
over the brome
And, too, the lake
glassy tranquil
float duck and drake
in mile high chill
I think you know my silly cat
It perches on heads like a hat
It catches critters and sets them free
cause it finds canned food more tasty,
but it loves the sport of the hunt
and can perform acrobatic stunts
between bouts of blissful slumber
