POEM: Lunatic in the Street

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

POEM: Shades of Silence

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

POEM: a trio of fragments

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]

POEM: Poet Watches the World Pass By

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

POEM: River of Me

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

POEM: Endless City

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

POEM: Blue

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

POEM: Silly Cat

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

POEM: Storm

storm clouds hovering
birds refuse to sing
torrents are soon to pour
waters will rise through the floor
and this shack will float away
clashing in nature’s fray

and washing out to sea

POEM: Park from a Hotel Balcony

I see a canopy of trees.
Wind-rolled like undulating seas.
A strange green scene from my balcony.



Seems like such a vast expanse
of trees tossed, locked in a dance.
From sidewalk, they’re of stalwart stance.



But from here they are an ocean to me.