Saturday, December 31, 2016

Rogue Poets Fight Thought Police

The true rogue poet
can’t help
being a thought criminal
in their own home.
Each slight
just makes the flame
burn brighter.

There is no death
by a thousand cuts
when each blow
makes the poems longer.
Real rogue poets
can bear any storm
and it only
makes them stronger. 

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Hymnal of the Somber 6 Train

like machines
set to go and go
we drone through
these cramped quarters
only to travel some more

precision decisions
to shave precious seconds
from wasting away

we bleed time
into transit hell
more and more each day
the hustle and scrape
for survival pay

we soldier on
burning to do more
and be free of this
daily war
haunts us as we live it
and hunger for more

these dues we pay
and pay again
a thousand faces
press us close
and none of them a friend

Saturday, December 17, 2016

Drive Explosion Ego Implosion

hitting pavement
rolling thunder
inviting rain, pain
and highway chimes
following whims
and the faded
roadside signs

letting it all unfold:
prime America
open road
blaring loud
in rabid gasps
begging us to
live again
in garrulous blasts

our own way
years upon years
beauty and glorious
without time
for tears

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Winter Night

the sweet bite
of a hard wind
alerts a certain kind
made strong
with a sharp
winter’s mind

pace the cold streets
feeding glorious
waking dreams

let us be
unbound warriors
burning for the night
made immortal
with the star-glazed
machinery of might

Friday, December 2, 2016

Burned Out Firing Up

stunned sad
by my own reflection
caught among the commuter herd
going from bed to desk to death
mindspace cluttered 
with petty matters
paid to pretend to care

somewhere lost 
buried by the worry-lined face
is the slap-happy poet
who lived for twilight wine
and laughed 
under pink
sunset skies

rage in the transit cage
but vow
to find this person

Friday, November 25, 2016

Il Toscano

The Douglaston rabble
is old and loud;
they shout at the waiter
by name.

The heat flushes us;
we stay stoic and proud.
We look the part,
but can’t act the same.

We pay our bill,
savor the coffee
and the fact
we have souls.

We draw our power
from the star-splattered night;
we soar above these petty lords
and their reign over dinner chairs.

We dip
our coffee spoons
in the soft flank
of the ice cream.

Tip well
and glide through
the dining rooms
and away;
running headstrong
into the winter night
and greater magic
to come.

Friday, November 18, 2016

Quest for Cold

Bring us that air of steel,
the punching breeze
that makes us real.

Thrive in crystal bold
blankets of white
that let us draw from the cold
to give us might.

Let us have the joy
of breath like ice
a little longer.
Give us the season
that makes us stronger.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

News of the World

Fireworks crack wise
over Southern skies
the Georgia pine stay silent
as the New Year
promises to conquer fear
with a birth
in a burst of violence.

The chill night sky
makes us sweet promises
of dark ventures
if we only take them.
The blue night commands
that we not follow legends
but make them.

Spread the news:
We’re barreling through,
upsetting pretenders
and electrifying

Friday, November 4, 2016

At the Campbell Apartment

an old safe
in a faux fireplace
prays mutely
for greater purpose;
the guests
don’t think about
its great secrets
or former treasures
as they swirl their wine

chatter echoes on,
words falling
on the dusky walls

minutia of business,
hollow words
stream endlessly,
keeping us from
going home
to real life
and our better selves

Monday, October 31, 2016

Seamless Cycle of Affirmative Madness

On track,
new life born
in rampant mind songs
mouthed out
like silent Rosary
at the chaotic streets

On point,
bringing new love
to lonely wanderers
who see beauty
in every calf and cobblestone
and weep

On time,
for all of time,
that light
that flash of knowledge
sending every sultry sinner
singing in crazed demonic joy
sparking new life
for those new needy souls

Friday, October 21, 2016

Happy Quotidian Murder Story

one small step
can snuff  a whole day
cast a dark pall
every which way
churn with nervous burn
while stomach butterflies
struggle to keep pace

whiff of death air
permeates everywhere
when sufficed to stay
at one’s own station

it’s the glory of breakage
the carnage of liberation
that makes the most
of life’s celebration

Saturday, October 15, 2016

Civilization of the Waffle House

not some sickly trough
where America slouches to binge
but an island of civility
amid a nation unhinged

a respite from the lunacy
the vitriol and spite
avert our eyes from the crumbling land
the fast approaching night

our pulse, barometer, shelter, guide
a safe hospitality
and a great place to hide
friendly to a fault
that shames a jaded traveler
breaking fast our only task 
a vacation from disaster

Saturday, October 8, 2016

From Mohonk Mountain House

somehow at peace
in these mountains
as cold bites at every turn

sweeping views
to dare the cold
while drawing heat
from our own dark flames
tempting ghosts
with every turn
down quiet halls

our own worlds
among the chattering diners

braving chill barns
to marvel at glorious history
carved out hard rock

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Hurricane Dreams

spinning silent
like a strange carnival scene
upturned chaos
with a center calm and free

fleshed out,
flashed before jaded eyes
that let the clumsy jumble
erase past lives

silent awe
for the power
of dark times,
wiser men
see the value
of colder climes

vow to the twisting force,
the darkening doom
and the mystery it shrouds
and be snug
with our superior dreams
within the violent clouds

Saturday, September 24, 2016

The Workday Stray Way

Some way
that always loves a walk;
that spark of will
that lets us step away,
and nobly salvage
a scrap of our day

Gathering purpose
with every stride,
our covert rebellion
a source of pride.

Living for the journey;
For these moments are fleeting.
The fire stays alive
when the soul takes a beating. 

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Viking Diaper Skills

day worn and battle weary
returning from the fight after dark
even tantrums and night soil
is a hearty welcome home

life messes
a blessed test
to slay and bleed
and be the best

the line in the sand
the blood, iron and land
you can’t save your people
without conquering
the mini van

mastering each day anew
to be the stoic, strong and few 

Friday, September 9, 2016

Battleships of Union Street

aglow in the night
and early morn
blaze of light rumbling by
flushed with bustling humanity

vessel for the warrior poets
out to scrap for daily bread,
home for those
touched by the mark
with dreams dancing dark
in their troubled heads

roving land ships
loaded with joy pirates
teeming with mind crime galley slaves
soldiers in the hand-to-mouth
soulgrinding slow motion suicide
and poison pen samurai
ready for the best defense

somewhere shuffling home
is our tragic poetic overlord
looking for his children
and planning 
the next artistic holy war

Friday, September 2, 2016


the promise of future fire
in the night-ripe sky
burns its mark
on our slumber

the pull
to be that knowing passenger
feeling the alien hum
and know the power

to throw the dice
and risk your neck,
the cusp and taste
            of death
lets you truly live

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Clarion Call of the Solstice Saints

to cut through
curls of sweet smoke
all-day wine glasses
stand sentry
to convening
of old friends

sultry spring night
as Earth turns to slumber
we burn
our candles
on both ends

blazing nightlife
with maniacal laughter
in knowing cackles

until morning comes
to say good-bye

Saturday, August 20, 2016

A Warrior’s Walk

spilled out
in small groups
by smaller people
cuck-men chuckle
like pecked hens
dabble in the drunken sweet-talk
of teen girls

the lone warrior
puts on his hat,
the chill Hell’s Kitchen streets
in the sober quest
for home 

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Young Pirates of Flushing, Queens

young pirates
of Flushing, Queens
shout about treasures
they pull from their jeans

taste floor hors d’oeuvres
before mother can clean
but even at their worst
we’re living the dream

the pirates
of Queens
have promises to keep
they punctuate their orders
by stomping
their small feet

our joy ambition
is molding these girls
into warrior women
who conquer the world

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Stagger Swagger Speed and Saw

sharp eyes
among the bleary-eyed pack
awake enough
to dream of attack

lone wolf
blends in with the crowd
springs to the hunt
to turn life around

not waiting
for divine refusal
the taking of prey
is its own approval

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Alien Elite

No need to let
the freak flag fly;
the deadliest of men
stride by in bow ties.

Ladies replete
with bared skin and ink,
lethal beauty
that drives men to drink.

No fearful tales
cloud our minds,
no lies to sow misery
can bind our kind.

Hands too busy doing
to clasp in prayer.
Don’t promise us Heaven;
we’ve made ours here.

Friday, July 15, 2016

Sailing the Blacktop Seas

up anchor
sailing asphalt oceans
to battle
succubus mind pirates

claiming our stake, inheritance
in the art of madness,
the beauty
of the burning drive
that turns the ruined
into noble saints

let us sink the ships
flying false flags
and leave treasure
on the salty shores
of dreamers 

Saturday, July 9, 2016

Public Relations

Everything is a sale
and every day
another act.

A week is a work
eyeing marks
like a carny.

Smile and shake
hoping intermission
will hold
while we hawk
more tickets
on the street.

Dream again
a proper
freak show life
far away
from hating
what we do.  

Saturday, July 2, 2016

North Queens

The quiet streets of Whitestone
keep calling me their way,
bidding me to trod alone
to the outlands
of College Point.

And ghosts
of long-ago movie starts
draw us
to feel the breeze
of Little Neck Bay
and skip stones
from the shady woods
of Crocheron Park.

We dip into some alien feast
with our worked hands
at all hours,
as the night life
of a thousand people
babbles around us
and the dreams of millions
chatter by.

Saturday, June 25, 2016


rain-slicked platforms
where we scrum
for a place
among the two-legged livestock

bristling angry
like a neutered gamecock

careless spill of languages
and faces
the same misery
among the mad races

broken down and delayed
resigned to this misery
for the hardened underpaid

cheek by jowl
make our own way
and say a silent vow
of “Someday…”

Saturday, June 18, 2016

All Night Driving

Smooth blacktop sailing
before light
cracks the horizon line,

like a swift boat captain
searching for ivory
or Vietcong
dreams of lobster rolls
and keeping children asleep

no time to stop
or think, or weep.

One week
without work stress
our steady paycheck souldeath.
Scrambling to get there
before commuters clog
the highway arteries.

Loving the brakespeed chaos
and the promise of coffee
and salty air
with leadfoot magic
to get us there.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Las Vegas on a Business Trip

Our neon Gomorrah
carved out of drought and sand,
abundant with sweat and makeup,
a craven blight upon the land.

Stinging with eye smoke
and loneliness,
crumpled souls
beg with quiet faces
for something better,
something real. 

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Pregnant Irish Women Will Rule the Earth

The Irish ass
is always
primed for kissing
Cross an Irish woman
and leave
with teeth missing.

On those cold potions
I take a polite pass
but muster devotion
for the fiery Irish lass.

Mane of red
and swelled with child
they are maddening, mine
and bloody wild. 

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Wedding After Party

a last pocket of survivors
in a quiet world
we lift our glasses,
toast the happy couple

3 a.m. on empty roads
that glisten and smell like spring
traffic lights click away
and do their color dance
for random strangers

we stagger and sway
chatter for the newlyweds
having their wedding night

a friend throws money
into our new used truck
to bring us children
and a bit of luck

we climb in
and drive
to the next adventure

Saturday, May 21, 2016

From the Hudson Line

Chatty girls
run dialogue
through the miles
—puke stories
and mistaken texts,
who is where
and Spanish wraps.

the mounds of rubble
are overgrown,
ghosts of labor
years ago,
dreams and hard work
now unknown.

Grind of history
merciless still,
but we power through
with power and will.

Saturday, May 14, 2016

Willis Cemetery

The cemetery
carved out of the White Mountains
has room for more
who are strong enough
to stay

Hopeful sightings of youth
among the hard old timers:
rays of light
between the shuttered homes.

Here our nation
still lives.
Here the spirits
of old settlers
make our sleek city lives
look small.

Saturday, May 7, 2016

At Kerouac’s Grave

surrounded by death
and crumbling Lowell
but we’re ready
to embrace it all
to love America
like the mad poets
of ti Jean’s dreams

we shake our white-knuckle fists
at the frowning gawkers
at the indifferent universe
at the cold stars
from our smoldering Earth

we laugh again
refueled in our crazed minds
ready to live harder
and burn in ethereal magic light
across the face of the world

Friday, April 29, 2016

Irish Women

starlight beauty
drawn to kiss lightly
over every freckle

glowing face,
smile a shining emerald
of lost lands

smooth strong arms
to carry babies and muskets

eyes alight
with the power
of sweat-drenched promises
and closed for a kiss
that can keep it all going
another thousand years

Saturday, April 23, 2016

L.I.E. at 4:32 a.m.

bleary blinking
with van-heavy brakefoot
cargo sliding to and fro

shiny road
swooshing underneath
in reflector rainlight

passed out passengers
swaying to the beat
of cruising speed

dodging the reckless trucks
by invisible lane lines

casting out signals
as the cold traffic
keeps whizzing by

Saturday, April 16, 2016

First Trip to Las Vegas

America’s largeness
in lights

ethereal magic
and topless dreams
blazing machines
penny slot siren maze
eyes glazed
for days

pit upon pit
—trimmed greens
for your cash—
bill-breaking towers
in faux gold
a tiny taste
for young and old

stamped upon the thirsty land
oasis of illusive plenty

advance and decline
in one gleaming gift

cheering on
our own great blazing burnout
one bet at a time

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Revenge of the Blue Light

In the lush green
dream night,
bruised and stained
by the sweet chase,

we get to that
mysterious place,
that Daisy’s pier
in heavenly space

to find the blue light
is only a ghost,
a glimpse of dying star,
a sinister dream,
to our host.

We shake our fist at this, unfair,
ignoring the starry night,
the cooling air.
Burning with anger,
but we have no case,
trying to weave paradise
from a shallow place. 

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Alley Walk

strange light
from spring rain twilight
guiding odd characters
seeking refuge from the sun

spreading ethereal glow
across quiet rooftops,
and empty street corners
where wood-tar telephone poles
stand silent sentry

this light
brings the muses
to Earth,
it dances away
before we can give it voice
inspiring, torturing
the youthful heart
that burns to spark life
from all of it 

Friday, March 25, 2016

Rocky Neck

art plied honestly
in sweat and heat
hard wrought
beside the sun-kissed lobstermen
waving gracefully
to rough locals
and soft tourists

where joyous newlyweds
sketch their own future
panel by panel

muck deep
in tiny horseshoe crabs
scrambling in low tide pools
away from baby girls

where dogs swim
beside the private beaches
and the rich sands
are slick
with stubborn seaweed carpets

let’s be worthy of this place,
may we have the good sense
to live lives
as beautiful as this

Saturday, March 19, 2016

At Forest Hills

feel the ghost rain
on the early evening
on the bleacher seat breeze

secret smokes
—a one-hitter pulled from a bra
private celebrations
thousands of times over
as each chord
strikes its own symphony

May we age gracefully
with fire and noise.
May we all breathe in
the blue sultry night
and feast on May twilight
until we die. 

Saturday, March 12, 2016

Breeze Damage

much more trouble
than tussled hair
or the dust void
on the floor
from what’s missing there

an uprooted mudline
is this purgatory’s border
a ruined life’s chaos
keeps its own
kind of order

there’s no engineer
to blame,
no liable claim
moneyed salvation
is the flip side of nature,
and a zero-sum game

those forces that
greened the grass
and churned the sea
gladly unglued it all
for you and me

we’ll watch it
and let it be

Saturday, March 5, 2016


a random burst
like a powder cloud
ignited mid air
flowers its fire
in the Queens night

people file out
onto the heated summer streets
among the blazing
night lights
and screaming sirens

silhouettes hum
in their beautiful New York Babel
among the firemen
laden with gear
and bored police
not happy to be here

under watch
of darkened windows
we soak in
the rain-touched
New York night

Saturday, February 27, 2016

Memories of Beer

a hot numbness
of happiness, wet
and sends us
to that sweet deadly zone
            that craves the next
            and the next again

release that makes carefree
but wary the supply may dry

living for the comfort cocoon,
for the lullaby music
of the crack of can
or the vacuum kiss
of the frost-smoke bottle

remembering to be slave
to that cold kiss,
to an uncertain heaven

Saturday, February 20, 2016

On the Peter Pan Bus

Peter Pan tosses us,
an early Friday escape
from the choking rush hour

Peter Pan implores, begs us
to claw our current selves
and be children again
but we decline,

eyeing sideways
the awkward smattering
of humanity
slicing down the American highway
in these two, too-slow hours.

Bring us, save us
oh Tower of Babel on wheels!
Somewhere among our cramped ranks
is a warrior poet
hurtling head-first
into glory.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Winter in Queens

in warren dens
of clutter
dust mist
swirls a dance
as needle winds
scream past
draughty windows

above the hard streets
where America gets molded
one rough day at a time
the rough clay
drawn from hard lots
over patched blacktop
and spotted sidewalks

scramble down
teeming streets
stop-go, packed-hell
lets us daydream
our way
to destiny

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Camden, Maine

quilted sky
glittering silently,
winking a thousand times
to the iron visitors

of houses
are sentries
to the cooing loons
and grunting bullfrogs

by day
the sun-kissed bodies
drift by
in casual boats,
soaking in the trees
and the sea-salt air

harbor chatter
in vacation tongue,
tolerant locals
measure patience
one tourist at a time

Saturday, January 23, 2016


the joy of snow
is to burrow deep
hearth fire blaze
inviting sleep

layer up
burst out
get bitten by the cold
freeze out cabin fever
with the ways of old

a heist of snow
frost-kissed faces
to blaze new memories
in familiar places

Double Winter Anger Freeze

an angry glaze
on the outside world:
frost under foot,
hard ice hiding slickly,
snow air punches faces

crooked footprints
steals and preserves
our vulnerable moments
we can enjoy this
only when locked inside

our lives endlessly
tear and churn
the real world
will watch us
freeze and burn

Friday, January 15, 2016

Call of the Woods

leaf-lush primal joy,
a magnet,
drawing woodmen
from their galley desks
by wide-eyed

forest bound
and snug,
wound tight
but natural
in tree cloak

all still
in the magic
of the first light
the world
as we were meant
to see it—
waking, alive,
and ripe
for the taking