Monday, August 26, 2013

Monday, August 19, 2013

Walking


When we were younger, a New York morning
Was laced with last night's memories
Like new shoes with remembered twine.
Now our older mornings are stitched anew
With new laces and yesterday's shoes.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Dream of You (for Nikki)

The image of Persia . . .
Like a dark stream of hair it curls
Undoes itself, then curls again
Ribboning over and around
Pillows and polished memories

Dream’s empire unfurls
Colors purple and gold snapping
In the liquid breeze,
A woven stream bridging
The straits of logic in my sleep

And then you descend
Upon my Greece your soft lips
Parted your eyes opening mine

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Ryan’s Song . . . Gone So Wrong, Now the Rest to Follow

In this tired story fueled, it seems,
by personal and institutional greed,
will suspension clear the smoke?

HGH and PEDs, the fiery secret
formula lurking hidden in MLB . . . then
one astute comment is its equation:

“Average talent becomes good,
good talent becomes great, and
great talent reaches the Hall of Fame.”

(In the past the tightrope dance between
denial and admission seemed to mirror baseball -
where business often outweighed the game.)

But not this time: the list of the alleged is
too long, the evidence too compelling.  MLB
will clean house, Selig will have his legacy.

To note: Braun may get his money, so may
others to be named.  But Hall of Fame status
is unreachable . . . and no asterisk need apply.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Passing Thought

Hunched, gravitated to a smartphone screen
Like Narcissus staring, text’s the thing.
It’s where liquid moments self-flatter
By message and reply. The airy matter

Is self-absorption and drags a warning:
Walk the walk . . . and chew gum talking,
But don’t get off an escalator and expect
Phone-in-hand the world to genuflect.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Hamlet In The Morning

Walking to work tired, feet sticky
With the aftermath of dreams.
They made sense earlier this morning
And still cling to my shoes.

Is this the way, always?
To wake.  To sip coffee and memory,
And then walk between
The linger and abrupt necessity?