The Stalking Moon

 

the heavenly body of record
lest you forget
crushes petty complaint
beneath its rocky seas
and pulls the tides
to cool work-weary feet
 
the stalking moon
sees you home
knowing twinkle in the sky
 
it lets you know
in the worst of sorrow
that there is still
another tomorrow

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