disinformation

it never took much
a whisper
a murmur
a hint
the tiniest
fleetingest
thought
and off my mind would be
running with abandon
towards a logical fallacy
disinformation
sent me spinning
spiraling inward
and there
I would loop-de-loop
in my anxiety
a whirly-gig of mine own creation
lined with fun house mirrors
reflecting my distortions
back upon myself
in flashes as I flew by

expeditious

Oh, would
that I could
rain down from above
justice & karma
expeditious.
Like Zeus
with his bolts
electric and fierce
would I end all
your words
so malicious.
Your snark
and sneer
would be wiped
from your face
in a moment,
my wrath
quite judicious.
Of the terror
you'd feel and
the pain I'd inflict,
no one ever
could be
avaricious.
My revenge
would be great,
and you'd grovel
and cry,
I would lap up
your tears
so delicious.
But I'm nicer
than you,
so I just
sit and stew
and all of my
cruelty
is fictitious.

cybrarian

once upon a time,
a long time ago,
before the days of cybrarians
and wikis and webs,
we wandered the stacks
browsing and collecting
like rummagers
at a yard sale.
here was Defoe and Whitman,
here Tolkien and Dickens,
Austens and Brontes
and good old Willy Shakes.
here the mysteries
and the histories.
there a trashy summer romance
with a long-haired Lothario
swashbuckling across the cover.
we did our reports
by flipping through
card catalogues
intrepidly,
Dewey's decimals our guide.
and with encyclopedia
and compendia
we sat and flipped
and jotted and noted.
we scrolled through microfiche
and felt like spies.
rainy Saturdays we spent thus
and bibliophiles thus were we made
under the watchful gaze
from behind a desk,
shepherding and shushing and suggesting,
of the Librarian -
omnipotent, so it seemed.
and though it all is so much easier
and quicker now to find
to research or rewind...
what adventure is to be had
on a laptop or phone?
what serendipitous accidents
or last minute acquisitions
as you walk to the checkout?
what mystery lost?
what love gained
for the smell of leather
and the accomplishment
earned by the weight
and the page?

mesmerize

rain rolls down
the window pane
washes away
the day
taking with it
the minutiae
of a thousand little
miseries and mysteries
i am mesmerized
by the trickles
in their tracks
and lose myself
in their races
and in hope
for our tomorrows
blue skies
to come

waddy

emblems of manifest destiny

generally regarded as romantic images
of cowboys of old
in denim and leather
dirty and dusty
ranch hands and waddies
eking out a rough living
pushing the border farther west

replaced

by images of
different frontiers,
ones without geography,
forged
by freemen and slaves joining together
fighting for dignity
for equality
for life
by suffragettes in full-skirts
with sashes and bruises
fighting to be heard
to be valid
by their children and their children's children
continuing the fight
for recognition
for a level playing field
regardless of how you're made
or where you're made
or who you love


all of them can be proud today
as their manifest destiny manifests

futile

echos sing
on sandy shores
with clawed wonders
and cawing monsters
as ink drops fall
plop and swirl
into the foam
painting the sky
and earth
in muted hues
and in a futile dash
the squawking thieving
beady eyed birds
scramble and
scuttle for the rocks 
we gather up our paltry things
blanket and books and key rings
and scuttle for the car
having already lost
to the clouds
washing the salt
from our skin
and the sun
from our hearts
with their cooling beauty
and majestic power
as they roll in above
over waves rolling in below
in a synchronized dance
of their own devising

anastrophe

Yoda-like
with anastrophe
we text in silly sentences
and fill the day rhetorically
with goofiness
and dumb emoji.

Smoochiness we have
but distant we are
and bridge the gap
thus. :-)

belated

Hello,
Hello,
It's been too long.
How've you been?
Is something wrong?
Oops, sorry, sorry.
I didn't forget.
I swear, I've been busy.
I really regret - 
Well, when was it again?
Oh my, oh dear,
I was....out of town,
I wasn't here -
Oh, please, please, please,
please, please, please, please
accept these
belated apologies
for missing the thing
I swore I'd attend -
it's no reflection on you,
my bestest, favoritest, most dear friend.
I would never - oh sorry,
I have to answer this call -
"Hey, no, no, go ahead -
yup, last night was a ball"
Sorry, dear, I'll just be a sec  -
"Yeah, I know, it was crazy
I was such a drunk wreck!
Oh, hang on a minute -"
Hey, why are you leaving?
I'm almost done.
Don't look disbelieving!
It's just one more call,
then we'll have a chance to catch up,
Oh darn, look at the time!
This day won't let up.
Ok, well, then bye,
I'll see you soon, promise.
We'll make plans for next week,
Silly Doubting Thomas...

roustabout

with feats of derring-do
acrobrats arms akimbo
in sparkles and spangles
do high wire dangles
roustabouts run about
and tend the tigers
and lions ferocious
their manes in competition
with the bearded lady's
majestic tresses
magicians disappear
from there to here
clowns throw pies
jugglers throw chainsaws
there's popcorn and candy
and cakes rare and sticky
and the children dream
of stowing away
to someday
wear a tux
and wield a whip
masters of this world
with in these vaulted tents

ingenuous

each day
a constant wonder
simplicity miraculous
complex and magical
at last
no game
no craft
no cunning required
no furrowed brows
just awe and spectacle
the world reborn
and every firefly
and dapple of sunshine
and kitten's purr
experienced with whimsy
ingenuous I rejoice
senses heightened
awakened anew
like Sleeping Beauty
by a kiss

hobbit

the world outside seemed dark
and dim and full of human terrors
into the pages I would fall
retreating from my errors
my timid self
would hide away
where elves and hobbits
saved the day
and in the schoolyard
I was found
behind a tree
sat on the ground
hid in a book no taunts could pierce
through my defensive wall
I did not hear the cruelest jibes
over the battle call
of Ents and orcs and sorcerers
and dwarves and goblins too
and talking lions, fencing rats
and knights and maidens true
in fantasy my head could be
apart from daily trouble
no math homework, no words misspoke
no awkward social muddle
a safe retreat
with daring feats
of triumphant bravery
where I could hide inside my head
from trials unsavory
disbelief suspended here
where courage always conquered fear
through characters who overcame
I learned in life to do the same
those authors gave me armor
and I wore it all the time
and so offer up my gratitude
within this simple rhyme

parse

they speak in code
in cryptic form
in-jokes and
portmanteau
secret syllogisms
abstruse argot
& indecipherable idioms aplenty

they build a babbling bubble
a patchwork wall of words
unassailable
so alone
yet surrounded
fixed in perplexity
as if in amber

*

the world
eavesdrops
latter-day Turings all
struggling with the enigma
an acrostic cryptograph
written by sphinxes

the world
uncomprehending
try though it might
with all its might
will never alight
on the answer

will never parse
the poetry of them

caparison

The skaters, first,
in grungy glory,
made young hearts burst
with their inventory.

Like knights astride
their steeds caparisoned,
they pimped their rides
beyond comparison.

Tricked out decks
and brand new trucks,
nose guard for wrecks,
grip tape, and pluck.

Our pre-teen girls'
hearts all would flutter
when boys with curls
would grind the gutter.

But better yet,
the female skaters
who'd take your bet
and shame the haters.

With flips and ollies,
they questioned authority,
shared youthful follies of
fraternity/sorority.

To backyard half-pipes
& skate parks now banished;
the old people's gripes
their freedom has vansihed.

In the days of our youth
those skaters roamed free
but now we're long in the tooth,
so sit and sip our Chablis.

 

esoteric

cries in language oblique
unpeel damage overt
the They lie and subvert
to divert our attention
and sway with fiction
sending the We on 
gullible travels
blithering and bloviating
with tales fantastical
veiling truth impractical
ergo and therefore
so They ramble over
in gobbledygook rich and rare
and lead us, their charges
into battles impecunious
for reasons fallacious
martyrs astride unicorns
save you and your coterie
outside and other
a clique of conspirators
with knowledge esoteric
clacking & clucking
Henny Pennys hollering
observing and observed
until the They drown you out
in ephemera and celebrity

libertine

in wild gyrations
shake and flagellate
arms askew in
specious semaphore
legs skitter and ricochet
against vinyl floor
and in between the
pounding, pulsing palpitations
of the besieging beat
belly up to the bar
to float on an ocean
of whiskey and exaltation
and with each exhalation 
obliterating convention
barreling through becoming
to being 
libertine in beatitude
beautiful bohemian
transcendent trespasser
not of this world
but passing through
in fabulous furlough
tourist gone native
until Monday, at least

gossamer

cool green between our toes
blue above
me in shade
you, beside
languidly stretching
and soaking in the sun
on the other side
of an invisible wall
demarcated on the grass
and erected by a distant tree
here on the lawn
of a tiny park
on a tiny isle
in the East River
we ruminate and confabulate
beneath gossamer clouds
both reminiscing and planning
conversing in code
devised over decades
and giggling like the schoolgirls
we once were
and (truth be told)
in part, will forever be

 

thesaurus

Lovely and amazing,
incredible and rare,
magical and wonderful;
these words we do not spare.
We use them, oh, so often,
when describing what we share.

Charming, handsome, witty,
kind and thoughtful too,
funny, smart, delightful;
these are my words for you.
I repeat them, oh, so often,
because they always remain true.

Beautiful, clever, darling, sweet;
are words you've used for me.
Such tendernesses, soft and warm,
you've uttered frequently.
And I'm astounded, oh, so often,
that I've won this lottery.

Lovely and amazing,
incredible and rare,
magical and wonderful;
I repeat them like a prayer.
These words said, oh, so often,
because no others can compare.

I have looked through my thesaurus
but there are no better words for us.

rambunctious

wild and unfettered
like a puppy off the lead
we frolic in rollicking rhythm
running roughshod
through the summer city,
rambunctious and free,
with the world at our feet,
towers scraping the sky above,
surrounded by everyone,
everything,
and we, puppy-like,
must sniff and taste and greet it all
wagging our tales behind us
in joyous abandon

jeopardy

Summer '95 in Tallahassee -

driving winding roads

in an 85 Hyundai

with no A/C

and I wear the black pants

and white button down

of the movie theater

concession-stander

in jeopardy of heat stroke.

The concessioneer's uniform 

making no concession

for the sultry soul-sapping

100 degrees.

A service job which did not serve

but for beer money.

The reward of

paltry paycheck,

stale popcorn,

and free films

mitigated by sorry selection.

The main attraction,

three theaters full,

mightily making parents aplenty

miss morphine.

And one tiny screen

with only late screening

for the rom-com.

And there would I

disappear.

Melt into the seats

and glorious anonimity

and fade into the flickering:

Kevin Kline

in black jeans

sporting a faux French accent

which made my 18yr old

cœur sing avec each "Oui, le je-o-par-dee"

et "Oui, BAAAAAB."

I'd giggle with each crinkle 

of Meg Ryan's button nose

and believe, in my 18yr old cœur,

that I was learning what love could be.

A vineyard on a hillside in France

with a man who holds your hand.

(I still think it could be.)

inculcate

she starts out brave and brash
a superhero princess ninja pirate
in pullups and t-shirts and tutus
smeared in mom's discarded lipsticks
with talismanic broken broaches
casting spells and leading armies

but it doesn't take much

the world
with its implicit
and explicit messages
in mediums
like bacteria in agar
grows
taking on a life

and as if by rote
she'll teach herself

she's not
she can't
no, don't
good girls won't

and so inculcate
that smallness
meekness
weakness
are the measures
to keep to

despite your urging
that superhero princess ninja pirates
rule the day

so be there
be louder than the world

for she can be its saving
but only if you save her from it

bellwether

The little things:
a date forgotten,
a name misspoke,
a blank stare at a familiar face -
micro-moments of other,
of insubstantial.
Miniscule things,
yet each a bellwether
of what's to come.
Each a singular drop of rain on
a watercolor.
And with each
plop and splatter -
you blur and fade
and only we
who have memorized
each contour and line of
your portrait
can still see the you
in the abstract wash
left by the storm.

obtain

we guard
from wind and rain
and tempest's roar
this tiny flame
of hope
that flickers
and sputters
catching in our throats
each breath
lest we accidentally
wheeze or cough
and thus
extinguish
this wisp of fire
obtained
through struggle
and cunning
and a modicum of luck
so zealously
vigilant
we feed the
conflagration
until it grows too great
and by our hope
and we immolate

youthquake

Rumbles, grumbles all around
Shaking, moving to the sound
Of growing up in leaps and bounds
Old moral codes, now all unwound.

So rising up, the rules to break
A cataclysmic grand youthquake.
The old order's dictates they won't take.
The status quo o'er coals they rake.

And so it goes, year after year,
each generation to appear
finds the older insincere
and so search out their own frontier.

The more things change..the saying goes...
With time each generation knows
their stances youth then overthrows
until, in turn, they are deposed.

clandestine

Storyteller

joy
in things abstruse
obfuscated
aloof
informs your
surreptitious smile
glowing
knowing
hints of rendezvous
clandestine
and covert
and the mystery
draws us in
to tales
half-told
and intimate
intimations
and we,
your audience,
believe we know
the shape in the fog
that is truth

noblesse oblige

Apart from it all
she stands,
wrapped in robes
of verdigris and vermilion
with a cloak of self-possession
and ribbon.
With noblesse oblige,
she ministers to the masses;
shining eyes stare back at her
in glorious adoration.
She organizes their days,
their homes, their meals,
their all.
Yet never was there a more
benevolent dictator -
this Royal Princess,
Highness of her kingdom,
loyal subjects all in a fluffy,
sticky, smudgy and oft repaired line,
awaiting the word
of the Majesty
in the tutu
and Burger King crown
ready to lead them into battle
against a phalanx of GI Joes
like a miniature Henry V
in glitter shoes.

frugal

lines in the pavement
swirls in the sky
cracks in the teacup
tears in an eye

frugal affection
an empty change purse
distortion echos
a scorned lover's curse

apples and anchors
a scream in abyss
patterns in chaos
ignorant bliss

swan song

Driver in the car,
bags loaded behind -
and the driver waits,
idling like the engine.
In the rear-view
a girl shakes and sobs,
a man kisses her once
then climbs inside
onto soft seats.
The solitary figure
wails her swan song
of regret.
Doors shut
and pedals are pushed
and the driver checks his mirrors:
on the road behind -
melancholy;
in the backseat
the man checks his phone
and never looks up.

adulate

Just because I think you're swell...
and I like the way you smell -
your eyes are pools I want to swim in,
the color of soft, much worn denim-

Just because you make me smile
and I think you've got great style,
you're silly and smart in equal measure
and your kindness is a treasure -

Just because your wit and charm
can easily my fears disarm,
you pun and chuckle in clever metaphor
and knowing you I'm the better for -

Just because I think this stuff
and there are not words enough
to say it all in perfect detail
with shoddy rhyme I'll try to prevail -

Just because I think you're great
doesn't mean I adulate.

stalwart

In adversity our hearts are forged,
truths are learned or lies disgorged.
We become our best or worst and find
the inner parcels of our mind.
Both faithful friend or vicious foe
in trouble is discovered so.
Through fire is the iron wrought
and though the world with peril fraught,
we stalwart all must muddle onward
and never let our hearts be conquered
by the despair which lies in waiting
for the time when haters hating
pleasure in our lowest moment
hoping discord there to foment.
Here is when the trial's toughest.
Where the road ahead seems roughest
then, deep inside, we all must seek
(even in the times most bleak)
for the kernel, scrap or shred,
even the most tiny thread,
of our self that's bright and shining
to lead us to our silver lining.
Though clouds within may storm and rage
here in the tempest we may gauge
the measure of our self-assurance,
fortitude, pluck, and endurance
and empathy and kindness gained
in trial likelier is retained.
Learning this we may venture out
into the world, unplagued by doubt.
Tis better thus, ourselves to know
than in ignorance to onward go.

phreaker

crossed wires
twisted like twine
tinny and distant
murmurs in shadow
phantasmagoric whisper
and I, failing phreaker
cannot break through
for a clearer line
to you