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


it is satisfying 

in every measure.


we leave this world 
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 
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 
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?