Saturday, September 5, 2020

The Gates of Bellevue


sad derelicts
add a somber note
to the skyscraper shadows
obtuse in their stillness
among the city-bustle chorus:
the traffic, the youth on their way to excitement
deliveries and commutes in droves
the old gates stand guard
behind a bus stop now
vying for attention
among the gaudy glass
and the traffic islands
but old New York
lives here still
for those that know,
and who wander far from work
to gaze upon the green bronze
and dream of what terror
once dwelt here

Monday, August 10, 2020

Ocean Thunder

a call to arms
in the crash cascades
through the salty air
and among the moving clouds,
streaking across the horizon sky

the siren song
of night
drawing us to sharp moonlight
that dances across the dark ripples,
that pastes our shadow to the cool sand

this music is endless,
sacred like a Gregorian chant
with never the same note

cleansing despite the sand everywhere,
a dream-forging cauldron of strength

a roiling punch
to knock us down
when we need it

Saturday, April 18, 2020

Rockville, Maryland

This night
is too still
even for a corporate park,
squat hotel
among slapped-together homes

The ground
holds secrets
of times past,
musket balls and tomahawks,
of pioneers and war.

Brick facsimile
stands sentry now,
faux elegance
tacked on to a green Earth
screaming to be free.

The Sinequa ghosts
shake their bloody heads
at our lives,
ticked away in board rooms
with catered lunches
eyes glazed
simple slaves
to numbers on a screen.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

Escape notes

staying stoic
among the caterwauls,
the legions of false faces,
the theatrics – like trained animals we jump
 for hard-earned pay

let others plunder their wayward souls;
we’ll form a secret resistance,
paint glitter onto bank notes
as we plot our escapes

we’ll leave them to it,
be cleansed by sun and shade
and accept hunger
as pay
for the better world we’ve made

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Regal powers of the living room floor

my throne
is cereal-strewn carpet
my subjects
are building blocks
for a supersandwich
piled giggling
upon one another
after saving our world

I reign
in final judgement
of sharing
while minding the choking hazards

I am Dragon King
and riding workhorse
conquering fear,
hauling my sacred blood kin
for tickles and napping

this brood makes me stronger
though I drag my feet
and fall asleep
before my appointed hour

Thursday, July 4, 2019

Le Grenoullie

taking a seat
among unspoken elite
interloping by accident
among the fine silver,
a sliver of the ancients
alive in the modern world

we try to look the part
but are the worker-bee poets
among the gilded, idle minds
wealth indeed
like a bill fold
inside wet clothes

we chatter about France,
our travels
and scattered,
melting-pot lives;
shake hands to do our business
and vow
to dine there again

Saturday, June 22, 2019


every stolen moment
from the jaws of work
forcing making memories
rescuing pearls of time
thrown before swine

the must feed
that money beast;
world rolls on
cold to our plight

but for these days
we will be part-time pirates
the laugher of our children
we will be outlaw poets
breaking free
from the grindstone