Tuesday, April 24, 2012


wicked wind, and
little spikes of ice
hitting my face... out
there on broadway and
flushing, under
trains and sirens hurting
the space between my ears.
it was talk, talk, talktalktalk
and, "walk this way" and
"call this doctor" and
geez, so many hallways
with padded footsteps and
squeaks of rubber.
and i held your hands
and told you, no,
you're not blue-paper-gown crazy,
as you cried and cried and cried.
but i still left alone, and
you still are alone, up
there in the third ward
of the fifth floor.
it reminds me we all need
to be fixed, somehow, and
in a way, the safest places
can also be the scariest.


Thursday, April 19, 2012


i wish i had
a pen at all times.
then i could ink
the city on my books;
my love, my
whiskey and wine
oh, my,
you sing to me
when you don't speak, you
make love to
when you don't move...
i could never ask
for more.
and if
you think i have,
i'm lying,