Monday, February 16, 2015

Mardi Gras in Exile

If I leapt open and fearless
in front of a subway train today
I'm fairly certain the the stain
I'd leave behind
would be
a festive smear
of purple green
and gold

That's the color of my blood
that or Mississippi mud
or the deep sunset gloom
of an algae-tinted bayou

where I go to find myself

But nothing finds me here
there are no brass bands
or seconds lines for lost
poet girls who've gone
searching for their words

Until maybe someday
when some soulful Southern boy
comes to blow his horn
to fame and fortune
on the crowded streets
instead spends too much time
straddling a hungry third rail until he

finds himself on an empty
subway platform
blowing a sad, slow rendition
of St. James Infirmary
down a deserted tunnel
where only the lost souls
of lonely poets haunt
the too-silent dark

Friday, February 13, 2015


In a stunning feat
of structural
I have burned
far more bridges 
than I have ever built

human relations
suffer from a
shaky foundation
and the constant
of too much traffic

It's a beautiful ride
across the bridge
but the other side ends
in a sudden drop
into the cold and
empty space below

I burn them because 
they're fun
but dangerous stretches
of madness
where the lonely
tend to follow

But in that brief moment
when all is set ablaze
at least they keep me warm

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Time is a Ferris wheel

Time is a Ferris wheel
Everything feels like motion
but it's really just a series of
the same moments
passing again and again
with different people
beside you
brightly lit
above a disinterested crowd
And trying desperately
to figure out how far
you can rock the car
without winding up
broken and bleeding
at the bottom
of the ride