Posted in April 2012

#10 of 30 (Two hours at The Met)

It is not enough: the pushing through the crowd the becoming a human salmon swimming an upstream hustle against an onslaught of legs, arms, and laughing little bodies who dart to and fro like oil-slicked minnows It is not enough, this block of 120 minutes this collective falling stack of 7,200 seconds this set of … Continue reading

#9 of 30 (3 Haiku)

i. Man hocking mismatched snacks on moving subway for “tuition”– No sales. ii. Crossing New York streets opposing pedestrians: the first to blink moves. iii. Sleeping old white man nods closer to me with each stop: color-blind dreams.

#8 of 30 (Easter Morning in Flatbush)

Through the still city chill of morning air the stark, circling sound of seagulls flies through an open, third floor window pulling bodies from shallow rivers of sleep. The sounds– unexpected, misplaced cackles are fingernail orchestras playing concertos across a concrete chalkboard landscape and conjuring the semi-awake into imagining tableaus of birds who took a … Continue reading

#7 of 30

I am poised, yet unnoticed a fly on the upstage wall in the reality play entitled “Their Relationship” and I watch as the denouement unfolds like a wrinkled, origami rose painted in the wet ink of improvised lines that fall like this: She says, “I love you.” He says, “Likewise.” And scene. but that word, … Continue reading

#6 of 30 (3 Haiku)

i. From the car’s backseat dog nose prints on closed windows become abstract art. ii. Birds land upon fresh mown lawn, inspecting my work and looking for worms. iii. Attempts to wipe a short white strand from my jaw cease: another grey hair.

#3 of 30 (3 Haiku)

i. Three inch heels change her perspective and cadence from Queen to a Goddess. ii. A cacophony of hushed graphite and rubber scratches– exam sounds. iii. New Spring daylily: green leaves push past dead remnants of last Fall’s blossoms.

#2 of 30 (A sonnet)

Gladly, I raise the earth around her feet so that each foot falls on a pedestal and all look up to her countenance, sweet and cherubic; she is a spectacle of full royal beauty. Blinking requests I choose to misinterpret as demands, she smiles and wonders why do I obsess? Why do I sculpt her … Continue reading

#1of 30

Shadow Writing (What it’s like to write a dissertation) It’s not about being smart. It’s about lighting bundles of sandalwood incense and writing on rice paper March winds, sending smoke you think are words to academic nether regions, only to have them Rejected and Returned as bitter pipe exhalations blown in your face by a … Continue reading