Pecking order disrupts taut
invention. Put that in
your pipe. 
The smock that you are
wearing wears on 
denizens of this
building.
 
Cheap materials clogged together
gather a ferocity like sizzle
held in state. Steak. Stakes.
Do you 
take this
man?
 
Say a few, no wait!
Stay a few.
State your case.
Delete the contents
of contentment.
 
Mean what you say when you stray
from here. This point. Some clustered
glut of erudition.
Shun the weeds and work
like this.
Browbeat your competitors
or die yourself. 
​

​Oh! How I wish I could sing like Lucy
the words Leonard left us, hallelujah
so the air may resonate with a glorious voice.
 
If only I could dance as Mikhail did
on the stage of the Paris opera
I know the air will become angelic statues
 
In another life I might play the piano
alongside Chopin, Mozart, and Tchaikovsky
transported by the melodies of the creation.
 
Perhaps I could try my talents on canvas
throwing paint haphazardly à la Pollock
to let space carry the colors as it will.
 
I fancy to be on stage under Broadway’s neons
to reenact Hamlet, Oedipus, or even Hedda
emulate the lives we thirst to understand.
 
I once dreamed of building cathedrals of
stained glass to create mystical images in the sun
contemplating the magical rays of dusk and dawn
 
But, here I am in the darker corners of the small church
made of a wooden home to termites and other pests
all I am able to do is tease the words in silence
so the air may wrap around you as a passionate embrace.

​Little girl, I am sorry to say 
that I never knew you until
I read your name in the news. 
 
You dreamed I can assert
of those futures all design
within the walls of a fortified
neighborhood near the city. 
 
What made you change your mind
on that somber Wednesday evening
at the onset of a promising new year
when you abandoned all your hopes. 
 
I never knew you, yet we could have been friends 
it is too late now, that you sleep in a world
perhaps better made for you whom I never knew
but I miss you little girl and give you my sorrow.  

​​Daylight has broken on this frigid morn’
November again nearing the infamous end
of daylight savings and shorter eves
already his world is bombarded by good wishes. 
 
Old friends whose wrinkles have multiplied
covers in grayish hats of thinning hair. 
so far away from his current climes
the sound of their voices has faded. 
 
Other chance encounters in the midst
of lost vastnesses barely greeted
on a pathway to splendid scenery
between a song and a brief word to the stranger. 
 
And then, the most valued of all
from piercing blues and ebony coiffe
two words that rock the universe
to give it meaning forevermore. 

quietly lying beneath the dew of an awakening
journeying into lands yet to be
she is still, within the smile of a warmer solstice
 
given to the universe in her vulnerable pose
fingers bent upon the soft palms
her chest heaves below the gentle cocoon
 
patiently awaiting in the uncommon bliss
her features teased by the rays of a new star
she remains listening for the sign of a new life
 
in perfect restful unison, he too is alert
to the imperceptible motion
a change in the heat of the season.
 
the aroma of far-away lands tickles her senses
her hand seeks reassurance
together they feel a gentle trepidation.

You danced your dance,
And sang your song:
Just a dancer from the dance.
A singer with just one song.
Leaving me spellbound with your dancing.
Eyes that captivate and are entrancing.
 
Your multiple facades.
And quaint masquerades.
Created for your gods.
On the darkened esplanades.
Loving the many nods.  
And he who applauds.
Belonging more to the bawds.
Rather than to empty accolades. 
​