white storm

ice wind swirls
frost covers tile roofs, whitens plant pots
every now and then a flake pirouettes
the Snow Gods are not far away


white storm
[2012.31.1...a]

one word

one word left out of mother's obituary 
beloved (I must not have been...
was she thus for me?)


one word
[2012.30.1...a]

on a cold morning

in the irregular cracks of a cobblestone entry way
thick  moss adds green to the sun-caught sparkle of grey marble
winter's blue sky completes the decoration 


on a cold morning 
[2012.29.1...a]

the return

before dawn
thousands of city lights coax the sun along its return path


the return 
[2012.28.1...a]

centered in sunlight

rare winter sunlight catches an iridescent shimmer of a pigeon's neck feathers
he waits on a bright moss-covered stone centered in a barren flower bed


centered in sunlight
[2012.27.1...a]

cloud break

daybreak
sees giant arms tug at the swirling mass of varied grey 
cloud break allows a shimmer of light to glow on the horizon
and grow into hope


cloud break
[2012.26.1...a]

cat time

on a mottled blue linoleum floor a black and white cat pursues a tiny blue twisty 
he doesn't care the weather is a dull grey
although in ten minutes his game will change
he'll paw at raindrops streaking the kitchen window


cat time
[2012.25.1...a]

winter ballet

my thoughts come quietly, like clouds on a winter sky
leaving no trace, they move away in a ballet
of mimes dressed only in shades of grey


winter ballet
[2012.24.1...a]

anchors

I have steel-blue eyes, a white beard
my heart and soul are ragged, both have known love's illumination and hate's stark shadows
today I struggle to merely be me, I have lost my last earthly anchor
I will not apologize for who I am


anchors
[2012.23.1...a]

twins

both twins watch me closely, my actions a cartoon I imagine
Andrea chatters away with me about broccoli 
Julia watches and only barely whispers a forced hello
both have stolen different parts of my heart
but my tenderness goes for silent, watchful eyes...


twins
[2012.22.1...a]

for Amani

there is always a smile in her soft girlish voice
she rarely speaks of her life as an exile
of her homeland close to war
of indiscriminate death colliding with family and friends
the heartache of seeing too much...
what has to happened to her youth?


for Amani
[2012.21.1...a]

inside the outdoors

outdoors, metal and wood chimes accompany the gushing wind
inside, the kettle bubbles, the furnace hums, my spoon clinks on the bowl
the cat leaves paw prints on the blue linoleum, the sink has heard the song of running water on clean dishes,
the sky is a used mothball grey, trees sway in the leftovers of yesterday's storm
no rain darkens the pavement
no puddles to make footprints that will mark my passage here and there


inside the outdoors
[2012.20.1...a]

winter storm

my heart is a grey, blustery winter storm
drenched in rain and the thunder of lost gods who do not understand
the tormented folly of humanity


winter storm
[2012.19.1...a]

lost

lost, one small hour at a time
drunken stupor, that first hour of sleep, the slow returning reality after the grace of "Om Nama Shivaya"
she forever remains dead
and I damned by her lack of love


lost
[2012.18.1...a]

a question of nourishment

at the breakfast table, I watch the cat at the window who patiently spies on a sparrow at the balcony's feeder...
he dreams of roast bird;  in my mind, there was never any question of  cat stew...


a question of nourishment
[2012.17.1...a]

pale imitations

sunrise
a complete palette of blues, mottled with a pastel fluttering of pink, orange and violet
I gently close the water color box
I've no talent to imitate such perfect harmony



pale imitations
[2012.16.1...a]

northbound

in the morning sunlight I follow my shadow on a northbound journey
I hope he knows where we're going...


northbound 
[2012.15.1...a]

in shadowed patchwork

the lattice work of a garden barrier leaves an elegant shadow
on the frosted asphalt sidewalk... uncentered in the patchwork light,
a few blades of new grass have fought to create a green crack


in shadowed patchwork
[2012.14.1...a]

park benches

grey winter haze has lifted this morning
promising skies of blue, dark anti-glare glasses
and maybe city park-bench sunbathing...


park benches
[2012.13.1...a]

before breakfast

late winter sunrise has no sound
it happens after the zen music of my alarm 
the cat's insistent purring
the snap, crackle, pop of my aging joints
I  too stretch before leaving the night's downy warmth
from the kitchen, a feeble meow invites me to hurry
he pounces quickly on my uplifted left leg
hanging like a trophy from my ankle
my first words are "good boy..."



before breakfast
[2012.12.1...a]

black keys

they arrive with crumpled  notebooks, timid smiles
and questions they can always answer without my help
they are my daily angels
reminding me that when they confuse f-sharp and a-flat
we are all human just trying to do the best we can


black keys
[2012.11.1...a]

there are always choices

faint hints of powder blue try to influence the sky's hard winter grey
the cat refuses to drink from his floor-bound bowl, preferring an old applesauce jar in the sink
while I watch green tea slowly transform clear hot water
I have two choices:
return to the comforting arms of Morpheus until noonday hunger stops my torpor
face the day, its grey loneliness, my blue grief 


there are always choices
[2012.10.1...a]

one fleeting moment

slowly, as if afraid of what will be uncovered, she looks up
and sees herself as many will always see her
someone unique, someone capable of more than just going through the motions of life...
for a fleeting moment, she believes everything is possible


one fleeting moment
[2012.8.1...c]

while the tea cools

through invisible tears, I notice nothing
but an absent pain that should paralyze me
the cat covets birds visiting his balcony
a pot of green tea cools
I answer the phone and console a weeping friend
life returns to a calmer pace
and I know in the years to come 
a larger hole of loneliness will slowly befriend and tame my grief


while the tea cools
[2012.8.1...b]

to tarry close

this evening at dusk, she decided to calm my spirit, this lovely, waxing moon underlined by stripes of pink and baby  blue that tugged closely to the  horizon's promise...
her nightly destination did not allow her to tarry close to my tears, but through my large third-floor picture window I rejoiced with her for an hour before she passed elsewhere to spread her calm beauty to another needy soul...


to tarry close
[2012.6.1...b]

"stormy weather"

the first storm has passed, winds die, rain dries, sunlight tries for good cheer
the second storm will follow me to my death :
mother leaves her riches to my sister's children
I retain the black memories, still a pauper 


"stormy weather"
[2012.6.1...a]

I am cold

a trembling seizes my gut, sixth sense of foreboding
the telephone had an urgency when it rang, I ran, but got an unusual rhythmic beeping
the angel of death is visiting my doorstep far on the other side of the world
I am cold, love is never enough 


I am cold
[2012.5.1...a]

forward movement

brisk morning walk
winter breath  escapes upward like a crisp fog
sunlight , a warm, exhilarating beacon upon my face
my eyes sparkle  with the universe


forward movement
[2012.4.1...a]

return to peace

sadness grasps at my gut, anchoring me
to this place I must leave, this harbor for my heart at your hearth...
today my brief smiles are  filled with longing
for a return to peace



return to peace
[2012.3.1...a]

cloudlike

fluffy make-believe mountain ranges, brown-grey wisps of smokey cigars
feathers of cotton candy, yesterday's leftover firework puffs and other phantasmagorical dragons, icebergs of snow to be, a globe of sci-fi continents
destination approaches
hugging the horizon are not clouds
but daggers of perfect white peaks not yet melted


cloudlike
[2012.2.1...a]

a new motto

morning is wrapped in a thick, ethereal fog
as if we have followed E.T. home after midnight's frenetic cry for newness
silence is the day's motto


a new motto
[2012.1.1...a]