The Days Are Already Getting Longer

Everything you think,
Everything you know,
Everything you think you know,
Everything you fear,
Everything you wish,
Everything you love,
Everything that breaks your heart,
Every lonely moment,
Every day you're thankful for being alive,
They're all real.
Please treat them accordingly.

Day After Halloween Haiku

November, and the
Air tastes like cold glass beads in
Summer tired lungs.

Almost The End Of The World

I tossed the dust of you out the window of the car, ashes mixing with the dirt and the sand. Hard white bone fragments being powdered by the tires of trucks rolling over dead asphalt, grains of dinosaurs, grains of the beach sand where the animals played, grains of lizards suckling their mothers' breasts while the asteroid fell from the sky....Ashes, dust and sand, is there anything else left behind? Please?

I Hate October!

The sky's turning darker and the air's turning colder, and it's just one more October....there can't be all that many left, can there? And your tears are raining in my eyes, salt burning 'til I plead for mercy.

Rainy Night In Brooklyn Haiku

Chilly gentle rain,
The asphalt wet and shiny

 In October mist.

Watching Norah

Feeling you leaning on my shoulder tonight, dark vision in black crepe and red satin, petting Skunk with your toe while our chopsticks duel for the last piece of seitan in the stew. I let you win, like always....
And your skirt slides up your thigh, a few more inches of black fishnet showing above where my hand rests on your knee....
And Norah is singing "Don't Know Why" while you kiss my fingers, and I kiss the top of your head, shiny pink hair with bright yellow tips....
And I kiss your black lips, warm and soft and hungry....

And now it's a couple of hours later, I'm watching you sleep. Soon I'll have to wake you and put you in a car to go home, but for now the sound of your breathing is enough....

Summer 1966

A thousand feet in the air, behind a grimy marble railing that nobody in the street can see, looking out on carved goddesses and griffons, the sun barely reaching these lonely terraces where even the elevators fear to tread.

Up here, the marble turns to flesh, up here, the sculptures start to breathe. Up here, it's magic. Up here, the rungs of the ladder carry you endlessly upward til the handrails dissolve into clouds....