Greens come alive on St. Patrick’s Day.

Each shade saturates; 

they vibrate 

finely under the lights: 

Kelly, olive, emerald, forest, moss, teal, pistachio.

Hello, let’s go, baby!

You flashed your cat-eyes

from across the room,

a welcome trance—

You had an Irish accent;

your tongue full of whiskey.

I don’t believe in curses

& superstitions.

Please don’t pinch me

if you want us to remain friends.

I know the days are growing longer,

& the flowers are budding to bloom,

but it’s way too soon

to go all the way—


if you are good, & promise 

me some needed attention 

& good loving, Baby,

you can see me

in my green underwear,

feeling natural. I don’t have

a green thumb, & I eat greens

but cannot cook,

but I can try to make some room,

some time for you

if you turn out to be the One,

if growing old together 

is a good idea—

In the meantime,

my green bra 

holds the interesting

bits & tits in,

but only for 8 hours a day.

Hope you like the view;

hope we can visit Ireland 

someday where green 

is natural currency 

or in the rest of days,

when the other colors matter.

This is a late Valentine’s gift

for you—I hid the evidence.

Sorry I’ve been forgetful.

I still love you!

For you, I hid the evidence

of neglect and self-hatred.

I still love you!

The chain mail of sadness I wore

of neglect and self-hatred,

it used to be strong, like our love.

The chain mail of sadness I wore

it now feels like an all-cotton T-shirt.

It used to be strong. Like our love—

(Sorry…I’ve been forgetful)

it now feels like an all-cotton T-shirt.

This is a late Valentine’s gift.

Love is present everywhere, 

in many different forms, 

not just bred for romance. 

Take a chance; 

hold your arms out 

towards the Universes! 

All will receive it. 

Only when one is  

ready & willing to receive, 

to give as well as take, 

to work & play hard, 

to surrender fully, 

to not fixate on false hopes 

& not press their luck 

on empty promises, 

when jokes become serious, 

when violence is recognized 

& eradicated, 

when the clueless gain understanding, 

when children remember their parents 

& to not blame or ridicule them, 

when parents see their children as people 

& to not blame or ridicule them, 

when the pedestals are destroyed, 

bubbles are burst, 

worldviews transformed, 

after digging out of inner abysses, 

setting fire to slave-ships of bad thoughts, 

taping over the vile voices one invents, 

casting themselves down, 

shooting themselves in the dark— 

when the love of self is alive & kicking, 

when the love of others is present, 

love is real, tangible, 

making the heart beat its dance. 

The sun is a hot bruise, 

lighting up the now cold bed 

where we once laid— 

Even though  

I will never tell you 

where I’ve been, 

I will wait forever  

for you to call out 

my name again 

as I search your name feverishly in the sky. 

Our names could have been entwined, 

sheltered from the jealous sun— 

but you disappeared  

without leaving behind any possible plans. 

I now lie in this bed, used. 

O gentle followers,

put down your heavy-laden, colorful bags

& sing songs, & say inspirational words

in your chosen place of worship.

Put down your heavy-laden, colorful bags!

Send forth good thoughts of generosity 

in your chosen place of worship.

Provide love & care for your family.

Send forth good thoughts of generosity 

& give to those who need.

Provide love & care for your family.

Try to do good this holiday season,

& give to those who need,

& sing songs, & say inspirational words.

Try to do good this holiday season,

O gentle followers!

Third time today,

uptown on Broadway,

I saw flocks of pigeons 

gearing up for an orgy,

but this time,

they crowded onto the roof

of the 96th Street 

Broadway Mall Community Center,

(its roof is still dripping),

gazing out, keeping warm,

heads bobbing in-time,

watching the ongoing traffic

as if their crowd was listening 

to the music of the city,

an invisible rock show.


when the music died down,

they exited in droves,

wings cutting the sky

of the Upper West Side 

all at once,

shaking the heavens.