Day Adventuring

day adventuring

is driving, moving

to keep moving,

staring at rusted rebar

prodding wrought fingers

out of New Deal concrete

kissed by aquamarine

it is

reigning

over dead end streets

or quiet parks

where ducks wade

out of reach,

feeding sun-touched turtles

for their boldness

adventure is somehow

snatching solitude

like urchins steal bread

and pray

to the hedonist war gods

that we do not hang for it all

War Letter from a Long Summer

the hard heat

adds to the thrill

of being alive

stalking scorched streets

with cold-minded eyes

hardened

in the kiln

of too many voices

being that exception,

that warrior poet

standing alone,

is enough

to make us smile

in the blaze

of the hateful sun

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

Night at the Carnival

shoveling fried food

into my mouth

while surveying

the passers by

 —a young parade

of summer delight

to test the men

of Friday night—

but such is this disguise,

ourselves unwell

but artfully wise

and somewhere

dark beneath

a silent warrior’s

sword unsheathed

showing no mercy

the verse unleashed 

Mud Soup

churning churlish

under canopy of trees

at the quiet park

summer streets simmer

while temptint rain

the only Dad here

hiding under a sweaty hat

trying not to gawk

at the fit mom

breastfeeding

and the cool dirt

speaks to me

when the girls pile it

to build their castle

we endure all shapes

of absurdities

to give our blood kin

an edge,

grateful we no longer

have to kill for it

the girls

make their quiet father

mud soup

I pretend to sip it

—delicious—

as I wait

to unleash their ambition

upon the world

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

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

Nightburst

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

Rockport at Night

another youth climbs the tree

this one a barefoot girl

—the cop chased away a boy

as a teenage girl

sings, sings at piano

for a small crowd

people take it upon themselves

to light the paper lanterns

that glow our way through the breezy night

the dark beckons everyone

to the beaches

lawn chairs jockey for space

to spy the fireworks

Lobster Fest has wound down,

dusk shrouds the folded tables and chairs

as visitors mingle and float away

praying they come back

Summer Party

In the hot New England woods

We come to confess

Our need.

Ourselves alone,

Workday false face

No longer

In our steed.

Among

The humble friends

Who know

Our youthful

Means

Before these our

Glorious ends.

Fortressed, trapped, well-wrapped

Among the

Bug bites

And the trees,

We make

Drink

Laugher

Music

While we conjure, sing and feed.

Rip away

The worry layers

And lay bare

The stuff of youth.

Soul fire lights

These summer nights

For warriors

To recoup.

June Rain

A hint of something skittering

Some under surface simmering

A chance to meet

Escape the heat

But no.

Humidity thick

And trapped in clothes,

Fetid heat

That snags

And stings the nose.

Stepping heavy

With glistening sloth

Weighed by salty, sagging cloth

Through crowds

Drawn close and proud

Uncaring blind

In the anger and light

Day by day pacing away

Living for the chance

To go astray.