Poetry back works (2006)

Poetry back works (2006)

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The photo was taken @ Scientist Cliffs MD, I go there to decompress from the job, life etc.  Oddly I am not  inspired to write when I am there… the irony.  I guess my mind is so calm that it just wants the rest.  Anyway I spent the week going though all my notebooks (the ones I could find) and put a good amount of stuff into text so I can post it. Since I am so darn organized (ok, anal retentive) I want to post the older stuff first.  Some of these works really affected me, I was surprised by how much I remembered writing these (some of them are quite emotional)… it seems like they were in my head just yesterday, life is strange, but luckily I am alive to observe the strangeness.  Thanks for reading.  Any thoughts or comments are always welcome (good or bad, it’s cool). I hope even my little effort to put myself out there helps anyone who wants to write or express themselves in some fashion.


“goodbye” 2006

my lips too well remember

the sense of your warmth,

a kiss upon your forehead

and may they there rest in dreams again,

the passage of time has not shed

the blade nor dulled the wound,

perhaps only hope can be found.

take in

a salve for all ills

stills the heart for a moment;

yet the loss of your love

is the death of it all

as I said,

goodbye.


“untitled” 2006

pulling concrete blocks

with hooks, chains

shoulders folds of skin

bear the strains

empty shell,

skin, bones


“still there” 2006

a flash of lightning

on the horizon of my life

wherever I go you are there with me

upon looking at the sky

picturing

listening

phantom conversations


untitled” 9/23/2006

bridges, tunnels and underpass

over, under and through

in my car

where I am

where I am?

the cross bronx

quite less than an express,

faded lines

barricades and flat tires

crumbling red brick walls

the road leads on

in always two directions


in cape may” 10/2006

take a picture of me

late october

empty shore

one shadow on the surf

only the crackle

of tide and the coming winter winds

even the vast flocks of seagulls

seem abandoned


an October Friday in Wildwood, NJ” 10/2006

the sound of breaking

and the waves

a small voice asks for ice cream

forty four degrees

boardwalk and arcades

taffy and rides

I wander through like a mist

of whispers

that catches no one’s ear

 

 

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