How to Keep Time

like a starter pistol

shot up close

breakneck lessons

at the speed

of bumpy hayrides

pumpkin patch

rollicking

in fast-jostle motion

counted

with giggles

and stolen snapshots

one day at a time

up to bedtime

in joyous bedlam

reeling

pulling in memories

like a fighting ocean fish

gorging souls

in a cosmic fish fry

to the light

of fireflies

as children laugh

out in the dusky light

Coffee Run

alone

on a workday hooky walk

away from the stifling desk

out and about

breathing in

the rambling New York stew

a plastic bucket drummer

fills a park

with magic beats

French-speaking tourists

shuffle by

on shoe-sore feet

spy the people

plodding on

drink in the sight of them

and then

move along

bank these visions

for later

for day dreaming

on stalled subway trains

modest joy

in the lonely life

again

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

Covert Poets of the Cubicle Empire

Covert poets of the cubicle empire

hearts aglow with soulful wildfire

stealing seconds and minutes

to keep themselves sane

amid the mind-melting workday

that gets in the way.

Secret scribbles

and sketchers of dreams

ride the blue night

sewn up in memory’s seams

We mouth the right words

our uniforms stay

but our souls still sour

in the true poets’ way

Our secrets are kept

within some kind of trust

as most of the bosses

wish they were us

At the Tinkergarten Class

love

that boils down

to the pure enough

eyeing the girls

scooping mud

in headlong innocent greatness

among the clatter

and the chatter

of the catty city mothers

lone wolf father

proud among the pack

as his girls

school the other children

rule the roost

unafraid

hands deep in the ground

to let the cool Earth

bathe our good anger

content, for now

to not destroy this world

Dance of the Frozen Devils

the good marrow

can be ice and snow

as we clutch hands

and brace

against the windy cold

the warmth inside

feels better

with a thawing face

only after such blustery violence

do we find our place

drinking it all in deeply

the close comfort

leaves us sleepy

but we spark again

alive at the freezing source

to dance with fellow devils

joyous

as life runs its course

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

Invisible Flame of Misfit Workers

sublime

if we can creep

past the wear-down

rage

past thoughts

too hateful

to darken a page

past misery heedless

near needless

for pay

past the clock-worn

routines

we repeat every day

somewhere

some spark

flints away

in the dark

with plans

nearly hatched

for some progress

to mark

this waking dream

of guiding flame

powers us through

a poisoned mind frame

it is our own darkness

ourselves

that we fight

in the hellfire struggle

to create

our own light

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

Nightlight Over Long Beach Island

our devices

glow like fireflies

and the night sky

pays no mind

it steers the ocean

to pound these shores

not knowing we’re alive

there is no magic formula

waiting to be revealed

no untapped powers

to absorb

only beauty

to let all heal

the secret

is to enjoy this sight,

to let this glory

be your light

so stop searching

for your soul to feed

this truth through beauty

is all you need

Proud Prayer of the Infidels

faithful

in dismissing these myths

embracing the appeal

of the sting of rough earth,

the carnal, the real

proud to be

that blast of cold air

to bring chaos

to the god sellers

and give chase

with that cold mind,

the blue chill

of cold white reason

so feared

and so great

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

Ode to the Time Stalkers

our secret way

to glimpse the world

cocooned in our own zone

fearless, anonymous, and alone

steal these precious minutes

from the workday masters

rambling soundless odes

to sooth frustrated souls

stalk this fleeting heaven

of a jazz-touched park

like a secret agent

at a drop

mind reeling

at the deft machinery

of life

its well-oiled gears

laid bare

just in time

to meet our retreat

on well-heeled feet

past the fumes and noise

with all manner

of proper corporate poise

we, sun-starved lunatics

of our own design

forever tethered

and counting time