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She said she felt like
a fairy princess, draped in
blue with beaded swirls.
He doesn’t have to
do anything but show up.
Fame does that for you.
Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.
Deciding who to
take like negotiating
Mideast peace treaty.
In it she was arm
candy, someone that turned heads
unexpectedly.
The play was about
them. His unrequited love
her indifference.
All around it, the
town is dead. Pity the poor
taken investors.
A romantic name
for a seagull poop splashed walk
among spray and rocks.
One piece would last for
hours and have few calories.
(I’m working on it.)
When I stay up late
my thoughts move oddly like lab
mice stunted by drugs.
Night winds roar like a
giant parent screaming “Go
to sleep!” without words.
Slanting through speckled
panes, turning cobwebs into
faerie gossamer.
Hills like cut paper
black against tissue blue skies.
Through poked holes, stars shine.
Incrementally
I clean unearthing a clear
space on the table.
Wan, pale, red-eyed, she’s
the poster wife of Wynette’s
song, “Stand By Your Man.”
While I throw pennies
into a coin jar, Bear Stearns
gets a big bailout.
Alan Dershowitz
said about prostitution
the lie men believe.
When a righteous man
is caught with his pants down, it’s
likely he’ll get spanked.
posted to my Twitter account
I need sleep, but I * need to work but I need sleep * to work can’t think straight.
posted to my Twitter account
Project due and I * like the late adopter I * am, haven’t finished.
Geeks transformed into
leading men stop hearts, but then
revert back next day.
Hats, gloves, put away
in optimism return
for winter’s last gasp.
Spring ahead and lose
an hour. What I could have done
in that length of time…
It’s fun to see what
it’s like and then go back to
being nobody.
Tourists whisked to the
top while on tenant floors, one
hears “shhhhhhsss” like secrets.
Like a hick I tilt my
head to see the top and
ponder tossed pennies.
I am the dull one, struck
mute by accomplishment
what I do, nothing.
Like a jeweler
displaying gems on velvet
wealth gleams beyond reach
“We’re domestic,” a
blonde woman tells her daughter
in line at the gate.
Flushing Meadows Park
once a site of hope. There, a
globe pledged future peace.
On a cluttered Queens
balcony he stands, watching
the complex decay.
Just over five months
This one four hundred fifty
Art or wasted time?
A haiku a day?
Not quite. Some days the tap runs,
some days it’s bone dry.
‘Beware!’ Caesar was
told. Like teens in horror films
he didn’t listen.
Headgear gone wild I
tip my hat to idiots
who have flipped their lids.
With all this trash talk
even the winner comes out
smelling like garbage.
Like the extra hour
when we fall ahead, this one
day a trick in time.
So hungry but the
dress fits stumble past photogs
smile stop nod pose smile.
Dreams of Oscars like
sugarplums dance in their heads.
Hollywood’s Christmas.
Kid in candy shop
I dab on product in search
of my true colors.
Midnight ghosthunting
at a tragic landmark seems
like a cool idea
Got a new camera.
What moments will it capture
in pixels and bytes?
Luminous suitor,
the moon dimmed by darkness’s
seductive regard.
Teenager curled up
becomes baby J who’s glad
that mommy’s nearby.
Fever distorts time.
Sleep the tesseract that jumps
illness to wellness.
Bright lipstick fools them
into thinking I’m well. No
“How do you feel?”