Won't always be there Life, flowing rivers or light Treasure those sights now
poem
Metro Card
In my pocket and warming, sleeps a yellow ticket that's always good for a ride. When the train is coming, an index finger digs into my blue slacks. I lure out the plastic ticket, a cat drawn by a popped can. Until then it lays flat in a brown leather wallet like a Seal cd … Continue reading Metro Card
Epic Falls Short
My words will never be chiseled into stone buildings Or quoted by third graders while a flag waives at them Their scaffolding is frail and the craft would fail inspection They are just digestible snacks on a long bus ride.
Dash of Salt
It just stung a bit Two warm tears tried to escape A futile attempt AG
Open Boarders
So where shall we begin this mobile conversation My absent fathers side or selfish mothers corner The orange crusted ax needs bark to target I have a tight grip and brought my finest gloves The grippy aero dynamic type for max comfort Would these be ideal starting horns, if so I'll swing Releasing the tension … Continue reading Open Boarders
A Day In Yonkers
A creaky brown door ushered them in Glove warm gray floors cushioned their steps The dog saw him kiss her peach pale neck Then press hips; darkening the stamp In the early morning the shadow was gone Ag
Bite Size
Dance nude in the streets Jiggle, giggle and enjoy Memories dress you AG
Hunter Mountain On A Saturday
It was five degrees today, with a crisp slapping wind Brown eyes watered, cried while being interrogated Dry pretzel fingers cuffed to icicled black gloves Nervously smoked like frail perspiring cigarettes I still poured through the snow; Bustelo riding on leche Amaury
After Work
My D train was full and shivering today Elbows fought for space on the pole while Others tried to squeeze in; creating spaces That were not there just three minutes ago This seems to be the winter norm now Transient mixed cattle being transported On powdered rails of smooth hammered steel We are all trying … Continue reading After Work
The Plate
Caribbean platanos in a large white blue rosed plate Tsssts, Tsssts frying pan stirring on Saturday morning The aroma of yellow sweetness dancing Bachata I tried to seal one or two Sacking San Francisco during the rush Tried to kidnap those golden coins But a wooden spoon always swooped down They were not alone Tsssts, … Continue reading The Plate
The Eclogues 
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