blueimber: (Default)
trying tonight to be myself
under the star'd skies
gazing at the stem of a tall glass of merlot
as if it were a flower
and i only a bug
in some distant city
far away
longing for the petals.

apple, hunting knife
bread and fresh cheese
the lullabye of the inspired music
singing to me
what has been in my heart
that i have not given my tongue rest enough
nor my mind
space enough
to say.

"i shall return tomorrow.
and i said fly on my sweet angel
fly on through the sky--"

a toast
((always remembering
in jewish weekending
ninth grade
rocky horror
and my pockets going home
filled with rice
having been hit on the head
with toast
and other goodies handed out
by the bikers
oh what it was to be so young and
not really know anything))

i have seemed melancholy
you must remember remember
all poets are proclaimed liars

in this silent space
and i think of my days spent
and where my footsteps have taken me
and to what ends i have gone

a toast.

to life.
to the life i did not think i would live
to the life that i have
to the lives of those who have touched me
to the lives of those whom i have touched.

to this apple
to this boule
to the new book at my feet
to my radio which knows me so well
to the things i had forgotten i liked
about solitude.

to thinking on my sins.

to the memory of fingertips
lingering lightly above my skin
like a whisper sits upon the stillness of the lakes of morning
i got out of grand central this morning
and like a column of silver brilliance
i was struck by the steele blue of a glance down 43rd street
and for one moment
at my back and within my eyes
i could not tell which was the celestial body of the sun
and which
the luminous illusion
reflected back
a loving mirror.

this summer i
did not get
to go out to
the beach.

one more year and the ocean alludes me.

i have been blessed
not in that
life finds me to be her favorite childe
but that
i could still have hope
after the storm has finished itself
upon me.

i am blessed
that as i have come as an answer
i find too in that
i am answered
i pray for just a small time longer of it
i like the touch.

if statements
could somehow be inefficient
at expressing
with true dignity
and authority
a feeling
'i like the touch'
would be amoung then the most
blueimber: (Default)
so good in my mouth
you feel
under my tongue and
around it
little apple.

shiny and new
green to the world
and like a little tart
bringing the blush of fall
to the fullness of my lips
like biting into life itself.


fall is full of things that taste wonderful--
such as kisses stolen under the waning moonlight
on the sweetness of
what i am only dreaming is happening.

i have visions of that cherry red color again
of being under falling leaves
i feel within my heart so bad
if i could just make it to central park
for one warm afternoon
then i could have
my autumn--

it elludes me
am certain it moves the longer i am not looking
by degrees farther when ere i am
although now as well as i know this city
and her
i cannot loose the park
under any excuse

dance a little turn and dance a little turn
and soon we shall be into a new year
the space between my calendars
and anything can happen

don't let me live on the edge of a
please don't make me balance out here forever
at some point we all reach our rope's end
just enough to hang myself by
i imagine
but the cord's not knotted
not looped graceful slender around
this neck
where your kisses
and hands
ought to be
instead it lay against my palm
unravelled for want of use
something else

but i make my circle
draw my line
crisp in the sand
like the way the skin tastes
just on the underside
of the apple

September 2017

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