The LittleĀ 

The smallest amount of time

Of distance 

From start to finish

From beginning to end

Fathering mile

To resting place

Over 3,000 miles on the earths face

We begin with a push

Knowing full well the end lies 

Far far ahead

But we push on

For me

Through poems and songs

From sea to shining sea 

From pale white to vivid blue

We see our journeys through

From the boroughs of the city

To the far west LA

Eternal summer fitting

A journey that teaches us to open

Rather than close

To grow

In what you learn

And what you know 

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A Night in Brooklyn

“I will FUCKING KILL YOU”

The words bellow from the belly

Of the loosely dressed man

On Manhattan Ave

Across from Manhattan Inn

Enough vigor and resolute

To carry the words to my own

Windowsill

I crept to the window

The man seemed unwell

Ill

I couldn’t make it out the clear

Words strung about a 100 bill

“Why don’t you come over here”

“See who the real man is”

The street lights illuminate his

Contorted face

I pull back from the window screen

He glances in my direction

As he walks towards Manhattan Ave.

And Nassau intersection

I am fully engaged at this point

This rage within this man

Has the whole neighborhood up at

2 AM

Cars rumble past blurring

What was said

What was heard

I could only faintly here but a word

All this rage and anger

Over a C note

On that note I better get back to bed

Whatever he had said

It was life in the form of entertainment

I am not upset from the loss of sleep

Just tired

Whatever kept that man up

Had really shook him

On just another night

In Brooklyn

Thin Nights

The late night salute

4 AM

Late night eyes

To boot

We dance with our technology

Until the wee hours

Entangled in a web

On a web

Every last fiber in my head

Connected

Needing the next moment

I own it

This is the way I spend the hours

Working

Trying to connect the un connectable

While my head is full

Eyes bloodshot and wide

Hair frayed

Dismayed

Until my head is laid

This is the routine

I try to break out

But something new is always breaking in

There is no loss no win

Just spending every last hour

Until the night runs thin

The Bread Shop Stop

The scent of change

Came at 4 AM

I rolled over in my bed

“When was the last time

I smelled the fresh bread”

At this point I was completely

In my head

I knew the change was coming

The bakery was on its way out

I still had one small shriveled doubt

Maybe the planned buyout

Was not as good of a plan

They would develop a alternate route

As I lay awake

Thinking

It had been at least a week

So I cracked the curtain to take

A quick peek

The burnt carmel building

Was at a complete standstill

I could see this from

My windowsill

Never again would the smell of

Fresh bread bellow

Down Manhattan Avenue

It was a nice offset to bus exhaust

But now it is lost

Lost

Gone

I am new here

I own that I have very airy feelings

Where others die-cast old love

Would feel it in there hearts much above

I can remember

When my wife and I stopped in

Knocked on the door

A man came out from within

Gave him a 5 spot and

Us a loaf

We stood on the corner

Eating it whole

The memory was the brightest

Of the few short lived time

But the old place is gone

Make way for the condos

Pack it up and move on

A Kiss of Rushing Waves

The webs we weave

The dreams we chase

Unchaste and yet true

At first we were revered as outcasts

Not sure of the way

Decisions would see us through

We made a life in the city

Tried to keep our heads

Above the rushing waves

Staved off by a blissful kiss

Sea myst

Over our eyes

We saw the world

Around which we realized

That staying put

Was no option

No higher calling

Even when the walls

The dream itself

Was falling

We see it through

Another night spent

Late night chatter

Even thought nothing was really

The matter

We see it through

Me and you

Ignorance of Conscience

Once a wonderer

Now forever lost

Is possible to go far

And near

Yet never be settled

Running from love

Hope

Fear

It’s a game of chess

With no pieces

Or what is there

Must be interpreted

No meaning

No beginning

No end

I don’t understand

I can’t

When one lusts for every moment

Every fleeting thought

Nothing becomes concrete

No desire

Objectifying

Denying any sense of self worth

For what its worth

To claim ignorance

Fleeting thoughts from ones conscience

Delay rather than develop

Bringing all but hell up

With the loved ones around

It seems low

The life keeps swirling down

I ask

Futile in my attempts

So sometimes I just wonder

What is once a wanderer

Can be now

Forever lost