6.6.17
Stormy morning weather
Unseasonably
so for early JuneStormy morning weather
Trees buck wildly against the wind
Thrashing in the sideways rain
If so then so be it
In my dead brother’s
Hooded verdant jacket
I stride heavenward
Through summer puddles
Searching for the bald eagle
in the chosen treetop
mindful of the time.
Dogs were Killed in the Filming of this Movie
They were wrinkled with time and sniffing around
All my poems are this simple, really
I am a kind man with a big heart of Gulden’s
Brown mustard
Apply it liberally to your fears
Twisted into a pretzel of salted tears
Cover yourself in the condiments of night
An insecurity blanket of Russian undressing
Awake to find the morning bathed in a brilliant butter
From Rafe’s chasm’s rocky coast
The wrinkled dog dutifully follows at dawn and blends into
The chiseled rocky brown copper landscape with his
Sandy skin Beautiful brown horse coat
One fisherman on the lower rocks sits with the ghosts
Of the two who were swept out to sea by a rogue wave
As the sea swelled and Rafe watched from his widening chasm
Whispering to the sea, “The name is Ralph, not Rafe.”
Warren Zevon’s piano echoes slightly out of tune
Ricocheting off the stone walls at South Station Boston
in the muzzle flash of Roland’s Thompson Gun
bullet notes bouncing off commuters eager ears
Accidentally like a Martyr who died on purpose
Patti Hearst heard the burst of
Train announcements
Random love abandoned love
Taking the commuter rail
To Providence, New Haven Penn Station Trenton Philadelphia
Now reproaching,
Now deriving
Now approaching
Now arriving
Boarding on track 7
Take us to the Lackawanna Station of
random acts and scheduled thoughts
I lay my head on the railroad track
Lord have mercy on me
Ahem!
I clear my mind
Head full
Of invisible mountains
Fist full of
Horizons
Skirting the
Clouds
Preparing to let fly
The winged wind
Separating the holy dreams
of angels
From the deflated balloon
Of the common man
Ahem!
Ahem!
Head full
Of invisible mountains and buffalo
I clear my mind
For miles of half forgotten trees
Fist full of
Horizons lining the sun with the summer sea
Skirting the
Clouds with a nimble glee
Preparing to let fly
The winged wind
With a mind of its own
Segregating the holy dreams
of floating angels
From the deflated balloon
Of the common man
Dreaming them on the one bus
Rolling through Central Square
Boston behind me
God just ahead
Where Am I? Where Am I?
I couldn’t feel
What was real
Zigzagging along the grass
19,999 days lead up to this
Head full
Of invisible mountains and buffalo
I clear my mind
For miles of half forgotten trees
Fist full of
Horizons lining the sun with the summer sea
Skirting the
Clouds with a nimble glee
Preparing to let fly
The winged wind
With a mind of its own
Segregating the holy dreams
of floating angels
From the deflated balloon
Of the common man
Dreaming them on the one bus
Rolling through Central Square
Boston behind me
God just ahead
Where Am I? Where Am I?
I couldn’t feel
What was real
Zigzagging along the grass
On
the edge of the cliff
Taking
flight
Over
the sheer Ovingdean Gap
His Gothic father wraps his arm around
His Gothic father wraps his arm around
The
boy’s chilly shoulder as his spirit takes to the air
An
heir to the air of the air we can’t see (can’t breathe)
Offering
him a slice of the night
Golden twin shakes his head no
Golden twin shakes his head no
None
for me then rips himself a piece of the crust
Watching
“Scarface” with his dad and his darker twin
You think you’re tough?
You think you’re tough?
Say
hello to my little friend.
19,999 days lead up to this
Arthur
the adventurer
He
shined like a sorrowful sun
With
one bright wing
A majestic tragedy
A majestic tragedy
Muted
royalty
Lost
crown
Dented
halo
A
distant beacon light
Flickering
secrets through the night
Nothing
turned itself
In
Nothing
turned itself
Out
Numb and brazen
Numb and brazen
Blank
and unwritten
Grief
is elastic
You
slowly inch further
But
end up snapped back
To
the same spot.
We can never have you
We can never have you
Back.
Lost to the white cliffs of Brighton
Gorgeous
unfurling of summer clouds
You
were enveloped shrouded swallowed
By
the white whale cloud,
the
lady of the morning mist
The
end of the divine rope
But
the view was eternal
Arthur
the beautiful accident
Last
trip maybe first trip
Lost
in dream of a hypnotic voyage
With
your Gothic father
His
arm draped around you
Offering
you a slice of the night
In
your golden halo delight