NEW YORK HAIKU
twenty two years
since was
in Manhattan
since then been
working ceaselessly
on writing
my New York
haiku
nothing bridge and tunnel
something right
out the island
one
hundred
percent city
figure
a year for each
syllable, a decade
for revision
forgetting about everything
extraneous, in
no way conducive
to the
realization of
the dream
I am chasing
the final
stroke of
my pen
distilling
everything
AT THE PODIUM
I talk big
at the podium
for I
have stealth
I have wings
radar guided
and direction findered
I cruise up
onto the stage
explain
that this is war
victory is everything
there are
no laws or
rules
blitz through
everything with
shock and awe
never
seen before
no need for
tactics, intelligence
or strategy
just missiles bullets,
bombs until
we have
exhausted our
stockpiles
busted our store
At the podium
I talk big
look warrior
no one
could be bigger
no one could have more
ABUNDANCE
waiting for something
to reach me
bending over backwards
to get close to light speed
nothing ruffles
gets under my skin
I start to forget
what day
it is
what the names
of the days are
whether I was born
in the year of the microwave
or year of the washing machine
too many levels
my brain fuming
maybe
it is heat
death out there
those gray cells
running low on oxygen
checking my anguished
protein levels
starved of everything
whilst if I remember effectively
we were promised energy
and abundance
the very idea seems
so out of synch now
could kill
to have
this all reframed
SOUL MATE
you asked me if
I were still
looking
for my soul mate
in turn, I enquired
about your ideal lover
and how you
would recognize this
from how
he made love to you
suggesting what I felt
on this score
providing you with
an admittedly limited
graphical illustration
which seemed
to spark something
all cylinders firing
beyond my expectations
as you rushed off
at top speed
to search for a soulmate
to match these criteria
ready
to scour the planet looking
for the rest
of your life
if needs be
TEST SUBJECT
you think
of this as
entertainment
I think of it
as a test
want to check you
out as you
navigate
stanzas
negotiate
words
to find out
whether you
have what
it takes
to read a poem
as
from the
beginning of time
readers have
read
a poem
doing poem
reading things
whether
you be
human
or
are a
poetry loving machine.
RELAPSE
here again
I relapse into
poetry
has to be
a syndrome
think I need
to get it
checked out
imagine myself
in the consulting room
being examined,
waiting upon
the diagnosis
fearing
that this might
just be incurable
a sickness
handicapping me
for the rest
of my life
ending what we
have here
on such
a downbeat
need to
write something
to provide
counterbalance
something dancing
across the page
brimming with life
WINDOW
my window open
rain
thundering down
a bedraggled cat
caught in the downpour
squeezing his
lithe body
through the burglar guards
sometimes it is good
when natural storms
hit epic proportions
takes the gloss of
political storms, global
clashes that lead
to outright warfare
show us
that little in this moment
is worth elevating
our species
lacking the tactics
and strategy
to find peace at all
my window open
the rain still raging
everything thought here
under the shadow
of getting
washed away
TONE
sense
intention
feeling
tone
but what
is tone
and where
is tangible?
told there is a field
where every tiniest
bit of thing
is just potential
possibility
popping in
and out
of existence
you me
all this
sense, intention, feeling
is just
a nebula of things
beyond language,
beyond description
having their
merry way
with you
merry way
with me
bringing – – if
you do indeed see this
and it says
what I believe it says
feels what I
feel it feels
something uncanny
into what we
might think of
as shared existence
SHOW
was worried about structure
until a reasping voice swore
blind that when it
came to structure
there
was no such thing
and so it is with chaos
its spokesperson’s voice
always intrusive, cutting
in out of nowhere
and then a male figure
with rock star locks
sidled up
troubled me with
a story of genesis:both
gods and men
from the perspecive of
this mad hybrid
as which ovetwhelming
narration my mind
began to reel
at thr prospect of a
world birthed out
of fractals and
populated by
such wine gods
most dangerous,, over the
edge fantastic influences
no one
nowhere near
the creative has
any reason to know
and thus
shortly before dawn
he, cajoled it out
of me
sat entranced and
appreciative, deadly
snake in his lap
enjoying the show
was
worried about structute
and all
in this world and the next
sure to embody
desire to bring
an end to it
SCARS
on You Tube
interview with an author
on the dawn of insanity
managed
to pass my time
whereupon
somewhat self-
reflexively
thought of him
always starting to write
something but then
something happens
call it a tic, call
it a, glich
findimg himself
in a script unlike
any he had fashioned
so let us say
thete was a dinosaur
or the sound
of one at least
heading up
the street
not
being a, marvel, or
any kimd of
hero, person
extraordinaire
he ran as
fast as a mere
mortal can do
(mere mortal at a time
of increasing decrepitude)
and yet, all things considered,
at extraordinary velocity
across
an entire cityscape
now, reduced
to an ash heap
happy to prove
that even if
it were false, alarm
he, had the fortitude
to escape anything
jurassic, , creatacious,
or Gestapo SS
from 39 to 45
no matter
how horrific the scare,
and how deep the left scars
poems 2 die for