Hot Potato

Cats sex in the alley
They hiss and scratch
With groceries in my hands
The bags are full and heavy
Night lit by streetlight
and ice glows down below
Chills get to be too intimate
Does frost it know itself to be frigid?
I'm looking forward to
roasting my sweet potatoes

Round Trip

I ordered not one but
two Manhattans
from the Italian bartender
a few blocks from
the Brooklyn Bridge
I nursed them slowly
savoring sweet bourbon
like a lazy rain
whetting my earthly
appetite for love and lust
remembering fondly
Cinque Terre and
the warm Ligurian Sea

Evergreen

At the curbside in
the city lay cut
evergreens in winter
their collective scent
wafts up and down
the avenues singing
those spruce tree blues
at every street
this felled forrest
is ready for collection
by the mulching men

Red Head

She's so good at Tetris
and so bad at holding
onto subway poles
Her red coat
and red head
She's good at smiling
in every direction
A rosy complexion
especially with gin
She's my Russian
and with
a wink and a grin
we're home

Wood Turning

It spins so fast you pay attention to a fuzzy edge and the feel of your tool. Sometimes you can shave off a year or more of growth in one pass, a different kind of time machine. The motor hums and the chisel purrs as you bring shape to that which already had shape, bringing use to that which already had use.

Those Autumn Leaves

Those Autumn leaves
danced in the dark alley
in circles they swirled
like dervishes
as we folded fitted sheets
we danced around in socks
and flannel to a song
of the last dryer turning
The warm knitted blanket
soft in our hands
like we are soft in our hands
and the homemade pizza
warm in our mouths
as the cold wind looked on
through our window
in jealousy to what
we had happening
The oven gave off
a most welcome heat

Prediction True

Train dancers
should all be given
a TV show
so I can remote control
I don’t know if the dancing
hurts more or the music
and we are all monkeys
flying through space

Show time folks!
What time is it?
Show time!

Why, that brunette
has a big baguette!

New Friend

I pretended to sleep this morning
Although the hangover was real
I could not muster the courage
to say goodbye
Last night we all broke bread sharing food, whiskey and wine
We were all smiles and we were rich with joy and laughter
Now I am another floor mat of my own making
But you, you
you were a delight and now
In better body and mind
I wish you well on your
many journeys new friend

From Midtown

D Train to Ferlinghetti's
Coney Island Of The Mind
In Autumnal evening bliss
Lost in the text nearing
The Atlantic Ocean and
Grey dulling skies high
Again over the holy land
That borough land the
Land of Kings Brooklyn
Many tongues all of them
Speak the language of
Love high over car washes
And laundromats and buffets
Drugs, Wine and Liquors a
Slice of the American strip mall
Pie piled so high so high you
Could die an unnatural death
In this land this foggy land
Where the smell of Nathan's
Famous hotdogs penetrates
The haze of old glory

Fragment

I found a strand of my wife's
hair on my coat sleeve.
Glimmering its synthetic red
I was not prepared to be
with a part of her
in that moment.
That strand
That strand
Was only a fragment
of the one I wholly
loved and did not
in that moment have.

Fathers and Sons

I see fathers
walk with sons
and think of
what a man is
a man in
this strange place
where he is
to become the
man he is
destined to be
I see fathers
walk with sons
on shoulders down
Sterling place and
Washington Avenue in
Autumn in America

If only

all good books
were so able
to slip snuggly
into back
pockets of
levi jeans

maybe then
reading would be
more fashionable

Untitled: Two Visions

A pregnant
woman rubs
her great
bulge with
a soft
mother's touch


A man stands
At Grand Street
station eating
a bowl of
oatmeal
The bowl is
decorated with
peonies and smell
of cinnamon

First Day of School Blues

First day of school blues
Putting on new socks
Lacing up new shoes
Traffic jams around
The block is chock
Full of joyous kids
Full of saddened parents
Full of joyous parents
Full of saddened kids
Hip High Schoolers
curse the day
with slim cigarettes
Complaints are fashionable
in brand name jeans To some, Monday means
another Monday/Funday
Manhattan Bridge
Manhattan Bound
B Train to Midtown
where the sounds
of those old kids buzz in offices
and through streets
cheap delis and
between the sheets
Don't play dumb
with your smartphone
interconnectedness
has us in a tangle
What will it be
like on Tuesday?

Spirits

9-13
The bourbon babes
and moonshine musketeers
together howl
in the cool
of night.

Below 42nd Street

Earth to Beanz-
Earth to Beanz-
The white scrawled
intimation reads.
Subterranean shadow
scholarship signal
malfunction.

The pipe bender's
pipe bender lays
at rest unbending.

Sandwich Swag

A pretty girl
stepped on the train
and met your eyes
She stole a breath
and a heart beat
Nothing's left but
love and sandwiches
Missed your stop
brushing crumbs
Time well spent

Chime In

Bikers and walkers dodge
weaving between traffic
Those whispering cabbies
Millions of faces and smiles
murmurs and shouts and horns
Steel wheels of the subway roar
Jackhammers pounding floors
Trucks, balloons and parades
Church bells ring out the hour
Children play a universal play
Eat, drink and be merry
Back of the bus ponderer
Windows, signs and awnings
One block can be a poem
Friends, family and lovers
come and go and tomorrow
on a park bench in Brooklyn
a man reads his sheets
Resting a tired old head
on today's headlines
Somewhere near here
a jazz band swings old tunes
The people dance great dances
A tenor sax man wails
He gives and gives and they get
throw back stingy brim hat
and houndstooth suit
filling the room with color
painting without a brush