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.

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

you. 

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

uncounted

on the dusky walls

minutia of business,

hollow words

stream endlessly,

keeping us from

going home

to real life

and our better selves

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

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

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

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

plotting

our own worlds

among the chattering diners

braving chill barns

to marvel at glorious history

carved out hard rock

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

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. 

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 

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

Engine

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

unleashed

to throw the dice

and risk your neck,

the cusp and taste

            of death

lets you truly live

Clarion Call of the Solstice Saints

laughter

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

and

we burn

our candles

on both ends

blazing nightlife

glorious

with maniacal laughter

cascading

in knowing cackles

until morning comes

to say good-bye

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,

walks

the chill Hell’s Kitchen streets

in the sober quest

for home