Spilled Milk on the Red Line

Spilled milk on the Red Line

Veins of white

Rush down the floor

“That ain’t mine”

The lady with two hats on yells

The man

Visibly exhausted with his head back

Is not one inch close to conscious

As the white pours through the isle

Pictures being snapped

A moment catches

The woman with the bike laughs

Late night Red Line

Public transportation

Strange spilled iterations

As the winds wind through

The tunnels

Below the streets

Of L.A.


Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Round the Corner

The simple smell

Can trigger so many memories

Roasting coffee

In Williamsburg

Takes me to years

On the road

So fresh and clean

Yet Smokey and full

The roast roars our into the air


And bringing back

Memories of good times


Day to Be

The coming days to be

Letting go of what was familiar to

You and me

A city

A life

For bigger and better

Discoveries and journeys

Letting go

While others hold so tight

That they squeeze the life

Out of the joy

Thy love

And love left

It will be


Goodnight City

Fears and hope

All mixed together

In on moment

Of letting go

Growing Up

Not growing old

Ride the train home

When the timing is just right

So the doors will open and

Step into the night


The Manhattan Strut

Water collections


That can potentially by cars

Keep clear of inch deep waters

Splashing from others

Falling items





The tight rope

Walk on thin ice

Manhattan Strut

In the reins of winter

Staying clear

Of the hazards

How I have learned from others

My own follies

Tried and true

Walking in the rain

I’ve learned to get through


The Other Guy

Not a football type

Not a sportsman

Or a marksman

Not a fleet-footed runner

Not a Hercules


But not to much

I’m the other guy

A craftsman of words

Tied up in outlandish hopes

Of artistic fancies

Guess I would rather be

Walking than dancing




Delays in Night


Unfettered display

Of reckless disregard

On guard

Words with no meaning


Backward leaning

Back in the night

When the sun lies low

That is where the weak prosper

The forbidding go


Surf Rock

Lay low

Play soft

Surf rock

Makes me feel just right

On a Monday night

Leave me to rest

I’ll be just fine


Be Gone Bygone

Be gone

Bygone era

Let go

Of the past 

Open a new future

I want not vintage and old

I want to grow up 



Let go