hazel eyes

Hazel eyes.
your brows
and lashes thinned
by controlled burn from
so deep within
and no amount of tears
will douse the fire
fueled one cell
to another .

No answers in the
back of this book.
Hazel eyes skip
to the last chapter
but the puzzles
remain unsolved.

Hazel eyes see
her safe little house
shrink from view
for the last time
driving away.
It's the week leading
up to Christmas day
But no presents wait
for hazel eyes to unwrap.

Sleep until New Years
sleep until Spring
sleep until the
ending of everything
when I will wake you once
that I may see your hazel eyes

random letters cut from newspaper

A ransom note
is written on my face
I can read it
in the mirror, backwards,
and It states, "If you can see this,
demands must be met,"
and then,"or else."
but only in so many words.

It scares the shit out of me

As if a device is
hugging me
beneath my shirt;
strapped around my chest
with a singular objective
and, at my emptiest,
I understand most clearly
the threat is not.

No one
[Neighbor;
Waitress;
Store cashier;
Even the ones
who look at me]
reacts in any way.
Maybe because they are afraid?
Maybe because they aren't
or know they won't
be taken with me.
As with The Rapture
they will be spared.

Why the note is there
I cannot say.  Only that it would be
comforting if someone noticed.
Or do they see ransom notes
in their own mirrors?



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

steep inclines

I've been pedaling bicycles built for twos
Pedaling philosophy from warmed over blues
Dragging sand bags up steep inclines;
Slippery slopes without hopes or traffic signs.
It gets so cold here on the ground,
holding the business end of a seesaw down.
Fragments keep flying while I feel
as if  I'm wilting on the vine.
Pack it in and you're just another quitter.
Keep it up:  You make a damn fine baby sitter.
This getting old is getting old
Surviving simply for the sake of the story
in a land where dreams are
only so much inventory.



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]

Eclipse

Thee Man in the Moon has passed away
they're holding vigil in the park.
Best bring a candle or lantern with, 
it's apt to be very, extremely dark.
The sprites and spirits will offer toast
to their late and celebrated host
who has given up the final ghost
Thee Man in the Moon is dead.

No hope have I to offer you
No false reassuring words to share.
The news I fear is completely true
and laid my deepest daunting bare.
So call upon my heart no more
I'll suffer no greetings at my door
It's to this end the days have led
Thee Man in the Moon is forever dead.

300 grams

You cried, bitterly after each
and every nightmare.
Had me believing
you never dreamed.
Yet sometimes, just as you
succumbed to sleep,
I’d hear you laughing.
The heart is hardly larger
than a fist, beating against
the bleached and bloodless stare
of an innocent pillow case.
What stains, I wonder,
are concealed on the ticking beneath?

$mart Money's On You

Insiders will always be speculating
on one of those lucrative ladies-in-waiting
and trading on the strength of convictions;
But the market proves fickle for all but a fortunate few.
I’ll heed their advice, my honey:
Smart money’s on you.

Investing my Precious, time in this dance to the finish line.
All bets are off in advance in the realm
of romance and high speed chases.
What you characterize as a cake walk
I'm calling a day at the races.
I'm not banking on comfortable futures.
We both know the dividends.
So best plan your moves most cautiously
before you decide to withdraw from me.
There are things for which
none can make amends.
 
Centrifugal force pins me back in my seat
The risks are too dear to mistake it.
I refuse to default in the face of defeat,
but those are the brakes so you take it.
Conventional wisdom tends to suggest
Smart money’s on you and to hell with the rest.

Yeah, old money won't trickle down far
but for the fortunate few.
They're hedging their bets, my honey:
Smart money’s on you.



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.] 

Dancing on A Brooklyn Roof Top (For Beatrice)

You could not be a model
prisoner. I see the empty chains
shimmer in the yahrzeit's glow
and I don’t know if I
ought to laugh or cry.
Thanks to you I got life
while you were punished
and tortured for sins unknown.
Now you have been gone
far longer than time served.
I saw you slipping away from here.
I hope you made it
free and clear
and you're dancing
on a Brooklyn rooftop.