There are things that only I and the angels know I trust them to keep their silence They come around when I close my eyes And disappear when I get the urge to do some harm There are angels that live in the bottom Of almost every glass of beer Churches are crowded with theirContinue reading “the angels”
The clear light of dawn has trouble finding its way down to the forest floorThe instruments we use to measure timefrom clocks to calendars to the rings in our treespreserve the illusion of orderand fall in splinters on the forest floorWhen the sun sets on this brutal timewe will be waiting forthe winter to passtheContinue reading “On The Forest Floor”
The long days are dwindling and the evenings growing cooler. Midtown remains the same: ever-changing. One last long day in the sun and grass of Bryant Park ends in the early evening dark glow of the Campbell Bar. Hope stays alive in anyone who has had a dream come true.
There is no place now that is safe for my gaze No soft landing for my eyes Once things turn hard it’s hard to make them soft again It’s cold enough to crack my lips and fill my lungs with frozen molecules of whatever it takes to build these palaces to winter Continue reading “Building Palaces”
Awkward as an angel who bears the burden of black beauty she turns, unaware of the emptiness that swirls around her lost legs Legs on which balance the twin curses of comfort and congeniality She is a solitary saint in a universe of undistinguished souls She is shy and unsure of her shineContinue reading “Awkward as an Angel”