East Branch Diner 

Her raspy voice cracked the chill

Of sub life climates, ice shells on illusions

Of limitless childhood.

Her hair greyer, flatter, her body grander but more fragile.

Or just me.

a year past flung and flinging

In feverish pitches with pointless posters  and presentation.


I never open the laminated menu.


I am a  sog of man wilted before the waitress

“honey” that diner dose of tea and pie.

Though the bill comes so soon

another lifetime will pass, with

only fleeting moments flash in fps to slow to…

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Shot by a cell tower two miles north

A bar appears on my i-Phone  in

A square meter behind the couch.

Where only mice and this man go now.

To take in messages  and momentum

As life no longer stops on the mountain.


A message beep ignites a firestorm of synaptic psychosis.

I throw on the dirt covered flannels, and dig in

To the wet  freeze to slow the meta movement

And mitigate the malaise of murdered freedom

From everything I care about.


The crystals, packed like flour but crunching

the remains of…

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Red Noel 

It is still December in Brooklyn already

As she smashes a bloodied mosquito

Having just dined on you without notice.

But hers.

Mine distant upstairs.

Knowing it too balmy for snow, but willing it

As I watch the deli tree vendors through the blue and green lights

From my window.


She holds it in her hand, as I looked away in horror,

Back to a more peaceful red of Santas, sleighs and wreath ribbons.


You sleep sweets, like your daddy.

Christmas tree lights bright and beautiful

Burning, you hope, a place…

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After Glow 

I watched priests fumble with a telescope

In my lucid semi-consciousness and laughed.

If stars could look back from

Heavens and hear those calling for heaven

As flames from Andromeda

Illuminate like Bruno’s embers.

A cosmos shattering mirrors

For the superstitious who hear the warning to



My girl.


A whimper from my baby next door, I keep the dream

In a fuzz like the microwave background

of a static  station.

What is he asking for?

A chance for a look too?

Perhaps to find red orange blazing…

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Filling the Gap 

I thought better of mockery and mischief

As she sat squirming next to me, her legs crossed

Mine crammed against the textured unpleasant plastic

Holding the hatted man wobbling in front on me.

Why did she care that I laughed?


In the lights a man invoked the God of the Gaps,

Which I could feel somehow in that armrest,

Though it was nearer a magnetic repulsion

than a spirit.


She once spoke of lost beings.

Bumping into ancient rocks, not knowing

Why they were walking.

Something of particles entangled, but…

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H to O 

No idea where the old thought  came from.

Over the puddle between Sackett and Henry or cool pacific waters

Where dolphins greet and pose and I play

By sucking down live oysters, and dead dreams.

I wonder who holds the key to harnessing the wind

The proven bedrock of  hope

In arm and ages where

Misunderstanding becomes miseries

Millimeters become miles.

We are indeed in America

And I reside on another body

Of land




Laughing as the tide goes out, and the empty shells stay

Locked on…

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Trauma To Be 


Don’t stop me screener for the
perfume I bought for her?
You extinguish synaptic fires with fears of terror
in an age of enlightened blight and lost bliss.
Bargaining you saw your generation
unlike mine of the sober and suicidal
trying too hard to break commercial malaise
which Google did nothing to satisfy
and spotting myself too many times
on small screens straining my eyes.

Seeing you too little breaks me.
Where implants of pride and prejudice
a warrior of peace when I cling
onto your skirt and pull.

The moment

Wishing Well 

Whose time did we borrow to be living a little longer?

Traps are made of statements of sadness

when grief gets in it too late for us to escape.

Just a narrow corridor in the mansion

of the recurring nightmare of a playful child

lost and alone.

I would like to find the lender to see what he is offering

and at what interest rate.

For anything higher would break me

 pandering in the street for hours

by Popeye's Chicken, pulling at Wishbones

with my girl who slides seamlessly

from one book to another and…

The Lonely Grave 


Beggars and Bribers mix only
at celebrity book bashes
and on beaches
bombed by old wars
and new money.

Weakness waxes
the sculptures made
for Posterity of Prosperity
of charity for charming
A girl just now
a woman for only  two years more.

The savior of the world
stays the martyr of risk
but not now.
Where rewards are write-offs
and wealth wasted
when no blood is shed

In New York or Nice anymore.



Time Bomb 

It has been 8:56 for 20 minutes as the atrium fills with second rounds of soy whipped coffee Relatives, relative to myself in relation to a fixed point in midlife when tears come slower only from Valium and repression and fantasies of my infant to cuddle and deals to make and fears of debts to pay Time lines disturbed by drenched coats in December where the sun shines only long enough to burn rods, cones and panic. 8:57 now. Only unknown minutes of watching and waiting to see the next storm of…

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