Take me to Brooklyn Where cheese, sauce & dough now live In a square white box AG
poetry
Tropical Storm Maybewe
They are still there... Archived messages creating a thrilling script with plot twist and a surprise ending. A role I was awarded but never read for. Curiosly I gaze at them with a slight distaste. Should I keep the part, despite the studios theiving hands. I'll have a drink while taking inventory of every misleading … Continue reading Tropical Storm Maybewe
23 Degrees Celsius
Sorrow is in my apartment where the lights shine as they have hued many times before but not on this cold night that surrounds me. Thirtysix years I lived with my thoughts but the apple tree is bare today with many leaves gone, knees and arms twisting. Masses of branches praising the sky, begging for rain … Continue reading 23 Degrees Celsius
Half Way There
The damn clock is buzzing Pigeons pecking sidewalks Gray against black People are bustling on the subway Standing packed on a Tuesday The homeless stirring A baby screaming pacifieeeerrr Hands against poles, over bags Their eyes are hazed with dreams Work... Tomorrow will be Wednesday The ride home will be similar Hands against poles, over … Continue reading Half Way There
Lavender Aveeno
Five miles away from the screaming sirens and Puffing yellow aluminum horns of Manhattan We shared a tapering white marshmallow cloud A frail hued lamp guarded our sealed doorway Cloaking the cheerful banter of our clothing As they gently kayaked down the East River Laughter gleefully shoveled itself into scooped pillows Giving way to hushed … Continue reading Lavender Aveeno
Half of the Half
he died his shoes won't have to be double laced any more bottle filled or Gu packed he died somewhere on Ocean Parkway underneath the Saturday rain surrounded by all of Brooklyn he died with thundering cheers in the air rubber soles in the pavement and kids on their toes for a glimpse he died … Continue reading Half of the Half
The Puppet
Nine oak fingers Chipped yellow clogs Fire red suspenders Shaven blue trunks Rusty squeaky knees Nickel strings missing Julio’s curled away Inside Oscar’s bench It lies underneath A deflated football Bent plastic bat And torn quilts
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
The Eclogues 
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