First time & taste
(needed some vitamins);
it was like a
luscious jelly, heavy
with sugared fruit;
the proof is in the pudding,
so they say,
but in this case,
I was faced with a
tangy ambrosia
Deep pocketed
in the crust,
with lattice lines
like bird tracks;
the axis of my co-existence
is now at an equilibrium
Since I’ve tasted this,
I don’t need the usual
accompaniment of
chocolate;
it is satisfying
in every measure.
Sometimes
we leave this world
soundless;
helpless, like the
babies we once were,
brain swelling
as we remember
when we were babies,
sleeping to our
old nursery rhymes
that did soothe us
once upon a time,
& we used to soothe
our babies
when they were small;
we grew up tall
& by the end of this time—
when the light
finally fades from our eyes,
as we leave this world
soundless;
far, so far from sleepless sleep,
cutting out stars
from the blackest sky,
blotting out the curses
of longer lives
without love or lust,
but life is often kind
& generous,
love & lust is affordable
sometimes,
not so soundless,
as we try to creep
carefully, soundlessly
into the light.
This will not be my house,
I warned the ghost Doctor;
I want no hold here
after everyone ends up dead,
I’ll end up in Queens
where the work takes me.
We were all helpless
that awful, terrible day;
On the monitors
I saw smoke everywhere
around the destruction,
a gaping hole
where the Windows
of the World held all time
together, where
all civilization came to gather,
The news was our only link
to the whole madness;
we were helpless
out in the prairies.
Today is another boring day
at the in-laws;
I want to sleep & regroup
when the music stops,
I want to hear my own heart beating
while the sky is still clear.
My man’s afraid of bears.
But it’s a mountain,
and the real bears are
far, far, away from the guided paths,
where kids and their parents
explore the zoo without fear,
only wonder, and the only
brown bear is behind bars
with his neighbors, the Vultures
(I counted 20+ big black ones)
Afterward checking out
the remains of Ft. Clinton
and seeing El Coyotes
pace nervously in their cages,
we reached the pool area
(so blue and full)
Where Blue Bunny double Popsicles
(mine orange, his grape)
cooled us down
on a hot, dusty bench,
right outside of
Walt Whitman’s statue.
I am reminded of
long, sweet summer trips
with the Scouts and my family;
I wished that my niece and nephews
would someday see this place,
as well as possible future children
I can only invent in my head;
we would point out the animals
and marvel the history
on the Appalachian Trail,
stopping to eat Popsicles
and smelling the barbecues
on the way back towards the shore.
Going back to Pennsylvania,
we’re leaving Saturday morning.
Storm’s coming without warning,
that’s why we’re leaving.
Deb’s got a niece
celebrating her birthday;
it’s going to be a happy day.
We’re leaving our men at home
so we can have some time to roam.
We both need a break from our homes.
Can’t wait to visit the Amish,
buy some apples at a fruit stand;
the pretzels at Tom Sturgis
are the best in the land.
And the rest stop in Delaware
is immense; it’s where
the whole state comes
to vent…
Not trying to circumvent
any situation,
my frustrations
are coming ahead;
I need this to clear my head.
Going back to New York,
we’re returning Sunday afternoon.
Putting my baby
and me on a boat on Labor Day,
to Bear Mountain,
for some couple time upstate,
that’s why we’re leaving.
I hope we don’t get lost
along the way,
looking out for bears
and his fears & hesitations,
Still, I can’t wait
to leave.
We need a break from our home.
If all the lights blow out,
could we repair the sky?
Fastening the odd velvet
to the outer atmosphere
with tacks shaped like stars,
it was all ours
like a hair-breath,
like a lost ring from a telephone.
But, all alone,
I did sew up the bits
of invisible clouds
with silver thread
And as I rest my head
upon your chest
for a short rest,
the horizon
began to bleed
orange and red.
I woke up in the morning fog,
sweet and fragrant
like berry-green;
the sheen
of the twisted,
black-barked tree
blocked the perfect view
Of me and you
kissed by the sun,
and the loose, invisible
silver threads
are hidden in the queue
In the sky,
vast & unending
like love should be,
like a strong tree
growing in the green,
above the blue seas,
Below the sky,
we could fly
in our minds,
and repair the cracks
no one else could see.
If all the lights blow out,
could we repair the sky?