Monday, August 24, 2015


Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Chasing tail lights,
your dream in the rear-view mirror,
still disbelieving she isn't real
when you know you were there
the same as you are here.

Low buildings ramble
under the scimitar moon
as you murmur
sail on, sailor.

Recalling how you used to feel so awkward
inside your own skin
until the revelation
that you were the observer
and the observed.

And you try to hold onto that now
as you navigate the desperate grey streets,
wading into a maze of strange gazes,
knowing they don't have a clue
like when you
pored over some verse from a poet
you knew very little about
other than you'd both been married
to the same woman--
trying to gain some inkling
into what she might have seen in him

Laughter spills from open doorways
where music numbs
a thousand coexisting ills
 just as alone in a crowd
as you've ever been.

Reflecting on this life--
a fairy dust landscape
of mirage
and tricky illusion,
you feel so invisible
you could lean against a wall
and disappear,
like a moon getting sucked
into a black hole--
never again
having to face the sun.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015


I saw a guy walking along
with his head buried in his phone
and I thought he is so distracted
that he's gonna get hurt
and I got so distracted watching
the guy who was so distracted that...
I walked right into a poem

At this bar a young woman
scurried toward
the ladies room
she looked so upset
like she could barely contain it
and I thought you know
all told there must be more tears
being spilled on that toilet seat than pee
and then BAM...
I walked right into a poem

I staggered outside
now fully cognizant
of the gravity  (I was looking at the moon)
of the situation
aware that at any time
and any place
it could happen
cuz poems
are lurking everywhere
ready to swallow me up
like Jonah
and I might never
find my way out again
until that whale of a tale
gets regurgitated
onto some poor unsuspecting wretch
like you