A Christmas Story

Into the batmobile...

















Past roasting chestnuts...


















To the pond...



















There may be no skating this year...

















The man has been foiled...




















He takes the Road to Joy home...




















And paints lights along the way...

















Tomorrow he'll look to the stirring fields.

For there's no snow this year.

Untitled (Fragments of a Peripheral Encounter)

Spontaneous him,
"What are you listening to?"
"Tom Waits."
Russian accent thick
Lips dreaming of sensual bliss
His tra que chai entreats
More...
"Sad diner music?"
"Hardly. Death disco for dreamers."
Mindfuck.
She shows her architecture books.
And notices his eyes twinkle
At the loftiness of ceilings.
"I despise anything Victorian,
save rocking chairs, she offers.
People get lost in rocking chairs."
"I agree. They're much like thunderstorms.
They complement each other."

Dreamers don't part easily.
They merely continue to astonish.
"Let's walk and hope for a thunderstorm."
"And get lost."
As they walk, she says something about planets.
How small they are. How far away.
How there's nothing ahead.
And how the shadows pass unseen.

Later that night,
they fuck in a contest of infamy,
smoldering in dislocated intimacy,
while this poems droops
shy and unseen
under the bed.
And they loved (probably too strong a word)
for the next 11 days.

Tripping on Silence: Intrepid and Starry

The moon lies on her back
Cold sober
Bereft of the low lying hills
Supine under the indigo sky
We speak in tongues
Waking the birds
Speeding by lighthouses and
Clam shacks and pavement

We may have disappeared
Once or twice
Only to reappear from
Bay to bay
In successive epochs
Of coquettish, ruinous trysts

-passing and passing us by-

We're stretched out in the sand now
Wave upon wave
Falling short of bare feet
The sea's intimate tide
Bound to the moon's toes
As she gazes over the horizon

Across the sea and through zones
The dawn smiles organic
The blue of a Chinese sky
Chasing the stars home
Through neutral white and
neutral view of us and light

Back at the house
The flight after flight of stairs
To her room over the peer
The sombre freckle on her chin
I kissed as we said goodbye