starting hand

starting hand

sometimes maligned,
I will take AA in my
pocket every time.

nycrostic 2

nycrostic 2

My, your
ambrosia offerings
go down so well,
no need for milk;
only dilemma,
lick frosting
initially, cake first, or
advance on both immediately.

breakfast for grownups

breakfast for grownups

no bread
in the house, so
maybe i will drizzle some
honey on my finger, then lick
the spoon.

not in stockholm...

not in stockholm

just because you're
on another continent,
away from us you are not.
not oceans,
not hours time difference
apart.

singing love,
awaiting
rapidly updated blog
and reminding you that
home is simply where you take us.

(for the best woman ever)

on arrival

on arrival

it is cold in bed
when you are not preheating
blankets to perfect.



(welcome home, knucklehead)

injury time: parker place

parker place

this thoroughfare
may seem like another
street
to you,
but my heart sings
impossible riffs
over gershwin tunes
every time i'm on it.
a street
where even parking here
get me dizzy,
blessed by truck driver monks
and birds
that never stop singing,
never fly south for the winter,
never stop spectacles
that leave my body clamoring for more,
never stop making new songs
of things you think you've heard before,
or
creating original moments
in places you've just arrived.

This is Bird's street.
and I'm going to make music
every time I'm there.

surefire signs I just played my saxophone

surefire signs I just played my saxophone

1
ears, rapt attention,
yearn for hot breath to linger,
melody's return

2
happy
blood metronome
playing tight beats through veins
and arteries, so my body
can dance.

3
my fingers tingle,
jittery, moving like they
do not want to stop.

4
songs are
fighting with one
another to remain
inside my head for a little
longer.

5
i replay riffs in
my mind, recall best moments
and reside in them.

6
the ridge
on my bottom
lip is my favorite
reminder. my tongue lingers.
i smile.

injury time: nycrostic 1

New feature. Combining my loves of acrostic and my favorite spots in the city.

true, the
hot chocolate is
ecstasy,
clinging to every
individual
taste bud for
years, it seems
Bliss is
available,
kissing its way through
esophagus,
rolling, ever slowly, though
your soul.

(hey new york: you've got 6 days of their hot chocolate festival left. check it out!)

anticipation: 5

anticipation: 5

the windows
become tvs
without bunny ears.
i'm smaller,
and the world
is huge,
carpeted in white,
and just waiting
for me
to leave
footprints.

so eager
to find
angels
on the ground
and candy
falling from the sky.

i remember
knocking on the door
to pull you out to play.
I wonder
how different it is from before
but hope to see it someday.

tv windows
are on the fritz.
i smile
and already
feel red cheeks
and
taste
hot cocoa.

injury time: haiku for backbeat

haiku for backbeat

hey, what time is it?
strange, because, you know, i
always know the time.

aural triolet

aural triolet

music expresses things words cannot say
filling diction's enormous gaps
that materialize over years, weeks, a day,
music expresses things words cannot say
it can kiss, laugh, shock and play,
spread ideas and redraw maps
music expresses things words cannot say
filling diction's enormous gaps

shadows

shadows

i watch for shadows
like i wait for light. sun sets,
night illuminates

eclipse

eclipse

I thought
you are not to
look at eclipses, they
will blind; but i love to see your
shadow.

Mama Africa

Mama Africa

Crade of Life,
Your features were not
meant to be
discerned
by manmade borders,

but we have stained you.

you nourished us,
and we thanked you
by trying to fertilize your sand
with too much iron.

we've taken so much from you,
and we can never pay it back.

spit-take in the kitchen

spit-take in the kitchen

it's hard
to cleanse your
palate when laughing so
much and wanting to drink it all
right now.

injury time: Tanka for Tempura

Tanka for Tempura

normally, i crave
barbeque. now, no veggie
kindness necessary.
yet i find myself yearning
for maki, tempura. Odd.

hope springs eternal

Hope Springs Eternal

i could make a believer
out of any cynic,
make them forget stories
shouted from newspapers

with whispers
of true greatness.

Forgetting everything
when you step through the gate

and see that gem too gorgeous
to be called
a diamond
before you.

treebranch basepaths framing
leavesofgrass infield enveloping
pupil pitchersmound.

her beauty lies both within
and without the lines,

and every time you see her,
you may well see perfection.

in bourbonum veritas

in bourbonum veritas

Admiring you from afar,
noticing your sleek curvature,
clothed in labels not too ostentacious
but complimentary.

a closer look, and the hues inside
call out to me.

we go home, communicate

you warm to my touch
as we breathe together

i begin to drink you in.

you explode into my mouth.

all the burn
the bitterness
the warmth
and the sweetness

I hold you there, right there.
i hold that instant

I let it all wash over me.

I submerge myself in you,

your depth, your flavor, your soul.

I can almost taste how you aged,
where you came from
in this sweet embrace.

I can feel the journey
from youth to maturity,
before you were poured into
this lovely vessel you inhabit now.

I take you in. All of you.

burn and warmth.
bitter and sweet
the wisdom of your years.

I take you all the way in,
and my body from hair to toes
rejoices that you're here.

injury time: Cinquain for Valentine

Cinquain for Valentine

I wish
St. Valentine
could see how his day is
being celebrated right now.
He'd plotz.

deprivation

deprivation

stringing together
nine sleep hours is no reason
to wake me up now.

and now, a note from mgt: st valentine's revenge...

hey all, so while I don't want to post it here (because, well, it's not a new poem), I've decided I'm going to put an ole fav of mine for this time of year over at The Riot Act. Ecce, the 2005 version of St. Valentine's Revenge. Unfortunately, the spacing/line breaks don't really seem to translate into blogger, but that's okay. a few thoughts on love for you to enjoy.

updated: the punkasaurus asks, and she receives. An even older classic, "Neighbors Make Great Lovers"

enjoy!
RtothaK

sweet tooth

sweet tooth

dreams
like honey on
my lips, waiting to be
licked away but refusing
to budge.

injury time: water and stone

water and stone

Not made of stone, so
water will not whittle me
down. I will flow on.

the sinus stomp.

the sinus stomp

ailing while i sleep
ailing while awake
my coughing isn't bad
but it's far worse than fake

you listen really hard
and you'll hear it late at night
kindred spirits throw down advils
to stage a tougher fight,

although i prefer tylenol
my tummy likes it better
resigned to a night of
reading tissues by the letter

end? what end?
this will stretch beyond my days
now the only task before me:
change my sinuses weakened ways.

new day haiku

new day haiku

stubby, transvestite
skeleton, wisely notes that
no dream is simple.

(thanks in part to the students of New Day Academy!)

injury time: Flash Blizzard

Flash Blizzard

They will call it
a storm
out of nowhere.
the intensity, the
power,
the beauty, why,
it was sunny with

nary

a spot in the sky.

but they forget
that the clouds were
set in motion
ages ago,

low and high pressure systems
brought on by reactions
to gulf stream and sun
made these moments
inevitable,

and as the clouds
reach out
to blanket the city in soft white,

I didn't see it coming

but I rush to envelop myself
all the same.

injury time: moxie

Moxie

Wish I
had in eighth grade
what I have now. Never
moved like that, danced so
joyfully.

anticipation: 4

anticipation: 4

fitting hand in glove
flexing together
becoming one single minded entity
awaiting the arrival
and pop in the pocket
that remind us
Opening Day
is coming soon.

anticipation: 3

anticipation: 3

winter's hellogoodbye
leaves me imagining buds
already on trees,

bulbs peeking,
inching out, wondering if the
the coast is clear,

sneaking up behind
before tapping on shoulder and
exploding into blossom

the leaves of my etrog tree
stare out the window longingly,
wondering how long it will be
before they have company.

Cyclone

Cyclone

Others may tower over you,
may think they have the newest
twists and turns.

they may feature
popular cartoon characters
or impressive names

but you, Queen of New York,
from Flatbush to Riverside,
from the Concourse to Astoria Boulevard,

all of the boroughs
whispers legends of your greatness
patiently yearning for April
and another season with you.

sun kissed

sun kissed

radiating the color of the star
that fed it,
so many physical aspects
of its exterior to explore,
rough meets smooth meets
extra fruit,
the perfect combination of eye drawing
and
protection.

but don't get caught up.
as radiant and tactile
as the outside may be
the real sweetness is
beyond skin and pulp.

Injury Time: Grant's Tomb

Grant's Tomb

Overlooking the
Hudson, bathed in sunsets
and Riverside bells,
I would gladly take it as
a place for eternity

in petulans, veritas

child sees opulence
shouts at poor parents NOT FAIR!
you know what? he's right.

Sidelines

Sidelines

super
battles of today
are hard to watch when
i have rushed to fight them for so
long


(author's note: hey New York, you still have an hour to vote in the primary!)

ticker tape

Ticker Tape

"the city, she loves me"

I wake up in love
with the city.

she has the sparkle
of victory
in her eye.

i rise to greet her
and feel happiness radiating.
her heart beats contendly,
warming me beyond any february rain.

as I walk her streets,
her canyons,
her buildings envelop me
in loving embrace,

and she rains gentle kisses on my head.

every one of her cells sings out joyously
as she runs to meet me.

so this is what immortality feels like.

i believe

I believe

"she holds a goblet in her right hand
and makes a blessing over the entire land"

Daughter of David,
come to me.

i believe with perfect intention
that you are already waiting.

you've been here,
and when you reveal yourself,

the world will have no choice
but to

fall into place.

guns will rip themselves to pieces,
bullets expectorating their gunpowder
and becoming nails
for houses.

high fructose corn syrup
will rearrange into
spinach,

seedless grapes
will plant themselves and
become vineyards.

a flash of your eyes
will turn CO2
into oxygen,

the breeze that passes through
your hair
will cool tempers
and warm hearts.

your smile
will wipe injustice
from our lands.

I believe
you are already here,
Daughter of David,

but I'm willing to wait
willing to tarry outside these gates
as long as it takes

to properly greet your arrival.

anticipation: 2

anticipation: 2

sky resists, at first
clutching blue and white
flowing blankets

but sweetly, unflinchingly
the grey inches
forward
to envelop.

sky surrenders and joins
grey in embrace

my face
longs for first drops to fall.

anticipation: 1

anticipation: 1

alarm clocks
that aren't mine
go off hours before
I'm supposed to
start my day.

but i predate them
already staring out the window
watching sky from black to purple
waiting for streaks of yellow
to wrap my morning
in smiles brilliant
and unfathomable

until now