Saturday, June 24, 2017

Lone Wolf in Manhattan


stop to realize
I have become
a walking relic,
a tie-wearing man
in an open-collar world

where eunuchs grow beards
and women lean in
when they should stand

where savages
are taken for scholars
and beauty and art
is measured in dollars

but I smile widely
as I spot the sharp eyes
of my growing tribe
recused
and refuse
to live a lie


Saturday, June 10, 2017

Simmering Summer Song


baked in a flush rage
the bright heat
pounding fists
from above and below
blast-furnace breeze
finds us
even among the trees

shroud-hiding
in plain sight
a sun-glass spy
avoiding the light
a self-styled wolf
stalking prey
that always gets away

we know our roles
as sun-touched souls
holding the line
until North winds
have their time


Saturday, June 3, 2017

August Night


the music played
a sweaty, drunken romp;
a random gathering
on forgotten benches
as cabs careened
up 6th Avenue

kissing to the white noise
that was Friday night’s anarchy,
the Village sang for us
and sent us on our way