Staten Island Ferry

A bus on water Nothing classy Bare, wide, plastic seats The grim colors dulled By rain on leather And snow on nylon Grimaces and odd Downcast eyes Not a vessel but vein A slow steady artery Depositing gray, working class stares On Whitehall And slides between shores A yoked burden December 16, 2000 Share on FacebookTweet Read More

wd40 – a sonnet of mechanics

you oil the joints of my legs with your strong hands you rotate my hips into alignment roughly the creaking of my pelvis under you commands your constant pressure, your voice caresses gruffly unused untried this chassis was long neglected a show piece rarely driven, me parked and rusting my engine showing no wear, my tires treaded I wanted a man who would be ever lusting you keyed me a kiss that started to filtrate sputtering and gasping and ardently... Read More

sonnet for wd, #2

you on the phone take direct routes you in the ether mail wordings gilded feathers, quilled umlauts changes my singular endings no plans for what I am feeling written in your hand impatient truths like breaths you have been stealing we fear the joy, the contentment here I let go first, admitted in voice, in deed, in hearty need with you, with you, this submitted joy with the WORD we both still bleed have we avoided this enough to say we are falling... Read More

Conversation

You’re the person Whom I’ve had A million semi-silent Discussions with At 4 am, early afternoons And in prosaic bars as Other eyes hands mouths Try to entice a part of me That you only you have reached In such a small part of time Attached to the years of talking Your half of the conversation showed up now Fully ready for more for me And I entirely for you October 19, 2000 Share on FacebookTweet Read More