Night drive

 

red moon presides
over a harvest-cold sky,
a right light
for the night drivers
 
fortress trucks
scream speed
from behind their running lights,
knowing they will never
run out of road
 
and the car drivers,
gunning hard to steam past,
rejoice in the easy swoosh
of smooth blacktop,
the lull of the radio,
and the sweet nirvana
of just going

King Monster Undercover

 

freedom
is being alive
like mental fluoride
 
bold and sharp
quiet
like a razor rock
 
action remedy
secret medicine
the balm of the doing
saving souls
one day at a time
 
let it burn on
infinitely
in flesh and poetry

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

WFH

grabbing

every stolen moment

back

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

heisting

the laugher of our children

we will be outlaw poets

breaking free

from the grindstone

Fairy Lights of Flushing

a holiday every day

this corner of our Gotham

we pray it to stay

unhip

a little longer

where the news

is churned by machine

and stacked wet on trucks

to stain fingers

and shape minds

where motorcycles hide

stacked between trailers

and a cacophony of cars

the salty perfume of the bay

filled with planes and prisoners

and left behind

to bode adventure

is the lonely highway side

far from the tudor homes

the chaos Korean 2 a.m. barbecue

living in the sweet rush

of passing cars

everyone hurtling

toward some odd piece

of their dreams

A Climbing Rock

A father’s job

is a climbing rock

to be that rough path

that winds to the top

to rule with love 

to tempt the fates

to put muscle on bones

and food on plates

hewn from

ancient tectonic madness

to guide through scrapes

and be a salve for sadness

unending

unbending and deep

to protect, defend

and lull to sleep

Early Fireworks

spied over

illicit rooftop visit

shining for miles

blasting holy glitter

on cloudy night

and muddy waters

glowing from the bridges

and the old towers

these mercantile dreams

made real with gunpowder

centuries still

Let this magic

never fade

from our red-blooded veins;

let us always retain

this rough-trade explosive crazy

that somehow,

against all odds

keeps us free.

Los Angeles at Night

the palm trees

stand sentry

and whisper

bloody secrets

in their own language,

dark tongues

swishing sultry gibberish

with their shadows

starry-eyed young

infuse our air

with chiming dreams

thick in the lurid haze

we make our way to cars,

to move forward, onward,

riled by the possibility

of night

and the searing heat

of tomorrow

Mad Life Fever Check

Lone wolf squad of one

preying

in the slumber of the sun

raging daughters

with more fight than sleep

tiptoe through the darkness

in a mad poet’s creep

our night becomes morning

as we feed on the blue light

joyful

with the rest of the world

out of sight

right in our minds

with wild dreaming fever

our job

to drive mad

and be our dreams’ keepers

Drummer in Madison Square Park

tapping

to an endless dialogue

to no one at all

spattered

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

hustles

one stolen afternoon

at a time

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

castaways

among millions

clinging to the pole

all of us awkwardly

spying

for a friendly face

among these crowds

too sad, too lonely

but not too proud

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,

assassin

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

forever

Father’s Day at the Carnival

a tinkering sun glints sharply

from spinning rides,

small feet scamper

on dry grass

through laughter and chaos

to an unhinged carousel

with a wink

from the leathered carney

clasping sweaty little hands

to thunder past

the shady barkers,

hurtling headlong

into years

of everyday madness

and new adventure

of whatever comes next 

Playground Sneak

the stealth Dad,

trespassing

for children’s play

one eye over shoulder,

a gentle touch at the gate

dusk

cuts into afternoon

shepherd the young onward

through drizzle

and the quizzing eyes

of legitimate residents

outlaw father

stepping softly

across alien space,

a small price to pay

and will gladly pay again

Irish Women

starlight beauty

drawn to kiss lightly

over every freckle

glowing face,

smile a shining emerald

of lost lands

smooth strong arms

shaped

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

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

bleary blinking

with van-heavy brakefoot

cargo sliding to and fro

shiny road

swooshing underneath

streaked

in reflector rainlight

passed out passengers

swaying to the beat

of cruising speed

dodging the reckless trucks

panic-flushed

by invisible lane lines

casting out signals

as the cold traffic

keeps whizzing by