Saturday, December 2, 2017

Drummer in Madison Square Park

to an endless dialogue
to no one at all
with brilliant rolls
percussion concussion
to make the doldrums die
walking the park to mark
the tail end of summer

joy in the sunshine
as the city
one stolen afternoon
at a time

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Nightlight Over Long Beach Island

our devices
glow like fireflies
and the night sky
pays no mind
it steers the ocean
to pound these shores
not knowing we’re alive

there is no magic formula
waiting to be revealed
no untapped powers
to absorb
only beauty
to let all heal

the secret
is to enjoy this sight,
to let this glory
be your light

so stop searching
for your soul to feed
this truth through beauty
is all you need

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Proud Prayer of the Infidels

in dismissing these myths
embracing the appeal
of the sting of rough earth,
the carnal, the real

proud to be
that blast of cold air
to bring chaos
to the god sellers

and give chase
with that cold mind,
the blue chill
of cold white reason
so feared
and so great

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Subway Strangers

conversation snippets
patter like precipitation
this heat, that rain
what job, which station

desperate souls
and lonely trolls
railing needlessly
as we roll
among millions
clinging to the pole

all of us awkwardly
for a friendly face
among these crowds

too sad, too lonely
but not too proud

Saturday, October 21, 2017

By the Guiding Light of the Ozone Sky

on a city street
like a secret rendezvous
the velvet sky
calls to us,
its glow
as its calling card
and victory sign
for us alone

we will overcome
profane existence
and be that speed healer,
the secrecy dealer, soldier
and saver of savaged souls,
the harbinger of doom
for doubt,
of false virtue
and all else
that poisons dreams

we pledge
before this dawn sky
to be life’s avenger,
the reckoning to come,
to redeem the mad nomads
and beaten down dreamers

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Ode to the Time Stalkers

our secret way
to glimpse the world
cocooned in our own zone
fearless, anonymous, and alone

steal these precious minutes
from the workday masters
rambling soundless odes
to sooth frustrated souls

stalk this fleeting heaven
of a jazz-touched park
like a secret agent
at a drop

mind reeling
at the deft machinery
of life
its well-oiled gears
laid bare

just in time
to meet our retreat
on well-heeled feet
past the fumes and noise
with all manner
of proper corporate poise

we, sun-starved lunatics
of our own design
forever tethered
and counting time

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Poetic Secret Soul Patrol

pastel skies preside
over the migration
through the dusty-dusk streets

a few spare souls
pace the same sidewalks
in a different zone,
seeing the life of everything

auto-gauging at every turn
they tap our hive-buzz
for answers and power

hear and see it all
in mad, bounteous cascade
the Corlear’s Hookers
plying their trade
the scattershot art
the homeless made

the ghostly cat calls
of time zones past
the sonic rat messages
at half mast

the daytime drinkers
in the hoppy-dark bars
and the yearning teenagers
squinting for stars

in the angelic language
of pigeon wings
under cross-examination
of the setting sun
we all tread home
to brighter dreams
and the day is won