Alphabet City

"Since we are three," I suggested,
"...why not have a "suggestion box"
to inform us and I will guarantee 
the anonymity of all contributions!"

cc: CC '23

Over the generations,
over the years, we mistake
one person for another,
traits that come around
now and then, faces again
as the old were when new yet
different names and time, though 
somehow so familiar, and I
don't care, for what does it matter 
the era I'm in, to each their own 
name slips, silver and mercury,
beads, a blue in the maze
all atilt and woven

cc: CC '23

Spring
brings 
hope then
Summer
brings Autumn
till Winter

Cc. CC ‘23

In a word
all is slain,
made whole,
saintly
the gospel'd 
lain
plainly
in site 

millennia 
last only
so long

messiahs
and missiles
overhead

lancers
and sabrists and
light dragoons

we are not ready
for hand-to-face
and eye-to-heart
combat

immortally
newfound
scars...

I shy 
away

I shout
farewell
Balaclava

to begin the rage
against the going

cc: CC '23

I'm yet unable
to say perfect things
despite words

this is
partially apropos
I suppose

a pose I feel
most adorned
by...but anyway
here goes nothing:

On any day
a star 
may reach 
farther for
more gravity

become a sun
beget planets - life - 
blue aura

(Glow
little glow-people
glitter

glitter little-glowing-people 
glimmer

glimmer 
with this sun, 
its moons in your faces)

You wonderful 
shimmering lights!

cc: CC '23

I have melted into the ocean
behind the baby's eyes, and 
I can see anew, born for 
the very first time, 
let alone again

In the guttural raspberry
sounds I make, as I discover
my lips and my tongue,
I express my love for you,
dear Mother

dearest Gaia, swaddle me,
hold me close in the pack
that you've belted there warm
to your bosom

And I shall sleep 
the deepest pure, 
cradled and buoyed
by your gait

cc: CC '23

If you can’t lower the seat, 
raise the floor

cc: CC ‘23

Don't pull back on a whisk broom, 
they just don't work that way

cc: CC '23

I knew nothing else 
but that
I wanted to write 
of a slipknot

anything more
that that
was little more
than what 
I knew 

...about anything...

dear reader, please pull this verse 
from both ends as you read 

do you see string-ends or bows?

you are hard, my aglet, a bitch dressed
in discarded and tattered laces

through whichever eyelet you choose to come,
from hereon in, moan softly to let me know
it's you

probe softly
to let me know

cc: CC '23

To draw
one must
see

cc: CC ‘23