Ellis

thin fingers, paper hands tensely
clutching a worn leather handle
cold toes tucked into solid boots
have seen some wear, walk to the coast
their lives in flight, diamonds
adeptly sewn into the hems of pants and skirts
pupils focused at the
dim point of horizon, knowing
ships come, to take them to elsewhere

they land in the city of old and new
they lay down the rhythm of jazz
they bicker and carve their place in spite of eachother
they welcome the misfits for schadenfreude, praise tension, angst

their weary children
know their place behind
the birth of new york, the better child
deferring to the cage, not whistling
nor even taking flight in steel
they think the point of argument is something real
the glass window, the missing sky
to gaze up and see no cloud
angry voices, reminds them
of the jaundiced home these vagabonds had found themselves
how unadventerous they are!
waiting for new york to seek them out
hoping
it cares as much as it shames
believing
the serendipity of collision

when the journey was carried in boats
and the waves turned the stomach
those paper hands held fast
to even colder railings
where were you? a dream in the eye
and you think the world is small
but your home is a fixed location
the only dot on the map

the city changes
the city won’t remember
your ancestors
their frugal labored fruit
their 5 block world with its own district
it swallows them whole

and if you fall, miss the rhythm?
and if you want to breathe without the soot?
and if you taste the pavement when you hunger for the earth?
good luck to you then, the smug would say
you’ve earned it
the only world you need to know
won’t need you now

I Can't Lie, So I Boast

walking into fat gulps
nevermind, running
palpitate a place into
the groove
new york, i nearly forgot you
remembering the pace of you
can’t get off the track

toe stubbing, mind numbing
grace for my ego, i’ve got to go
look at me
it’s an exercise in
my power’s beauty
because asking about you is just rude
everybody’s miserable
who wants to be caught
off guard with sincere concern?
everybody’s practiced story
join in, you learn

who notices anything?
no looking at the water
southern state like a well worn track
potholes poke you and there’s no looking back
racing between the lights
running out of time
new york, i nearly forgot you
the game gets bigger, you’re still denied
each face is a dollar sign
your shell is your pride
keep your sword at your side

Dreaming Though (2004)

to set aside for you and me

a big red jeep like i used to own
approaches the corner in the front
of your home
i wonder in silence
why it suits you
it drives into the darkening fog

i’ve lost track of time
i just know i’ve been here
feeling the sky get bigger
with each blinked off tear
love you so much i’d wait
for you call and it be too late

cars passing by, flattening incoming fireflies
street lights turn on, sun gets low
am dreaming though, am dreaming though

ground wire

these movements vastly encircle
the pole between our dancing is a massive ground wire
tracing lines along the grooves

we know these routes
begging at the door of the fate refrain
our tongues long and language plain
simple words are blessed the most
laughing at the ever ascending curve
and jumping the parabola

i know you are a left child and i pass along the right
the tones of our sweet voices, dulcet in the night
clasping intermittent flesh supported by the bone

we hang on
dizzy from the motion of our powered drone

half employed

i have a job.  is that good news? i believe so. it’s not enough to meet my obligations, but that’s the fault of my obligations and not my job. so it’s time to start slicing and dicing.

the other day i was driving on the highway, still irritated at this situation.  even still, portions of it moved me.  lakes with glacial guises popped through vacancies between barren trees. the simple bleakness had a calm beauty about it when the cars weren’t on the road. pulling over the southern meadowbrook as pink sky grew denser under the pressure of a inky night horizon, the golden lights pulsed and glowed, punctuating a path for me.

it was nice.

i may get a second job.

Strange Places

I have a few interviews lined up for part time jobs.  If I can get two, I can manage to work a full seven days a week and be thankful for the privilege.  It’s getting strange out there. You see a brand new listing, posted a few minutes ago, and the mailbox is full when you send your resume.  If a phone number was listed, I could call but… that’s why a phone number isn’t listed.

I’m leaving the short term apartment I’ve been staying in today to sleep in the guest room at my father’s place. I’ve got some tidying up to do, and I’ll be filling my car with my worldly possessions again and taking a trip to the storage unit.  That place is a little surreal.  The manager is a wise cracking guy, making sexist jokes and thinking he’s charming.  I don’t mind… his facility is affordable and uses cylindrical locks, and there are security cameras everywhere. If anyone steals anything it’s going to be someone who, quite honestly deserves more than my stuff for his hard work.

So here’s to job opportunities still, picking through the wreckage for the fun parts, and moving on.

New York, we meet again…

I’m back in my personal ground zero, outside of Manhattan but within view of the ugly soot-grey boot of a city that used to punish my pretty face.  I kid, but I’m definitely not pleased to be here.  I had just begun a major project – the editing and publishing of some 2-3 boxes of confused notes, dubiously crafted poems and drafts for screenplays that i’ve managed to accumulate in my lifetime and never finish.  So, while most of my things are in storage and I am dealing with other things at the moment, I am going to proceed undaunted with this task.  Not only for the sake of the work itself, but because if I sit around and mope about being back here any longer, I may decide to go back into finance and lose myself in the glitzy world of spray tan and popped collars forever.