Lonely as an
empty train in the
switchyard. And the
switching engine reeks.

Light is the tiger
that falls so misty
on city sidewalks

red, pink, yellow, blue
like a plumed and tasseled horse
here comes the day

The derring-do of clouds
just to float away
They just do not measure up
What do they have to say?

The carousel in March
tents painted horses
that the children will soon ride

Grace

To join the parade
to go merrily along
with glass wall say nothing
protecting flaws
that really need no protection
save grace.

Times Square

Buildings--each square and
shiny as a false tooth--with
say nothing I spin thru their
glass doors--but outside, at
night, floor to floor, window
to window, they wink at me.
Am I that pretty? Or are they
just pushing Viagra?

Faith

Close yourself window--
big rocks are in my pocket
dying to be thrown.

The late snow
covers the blooming Daffodils
foolish these gladiators

My rear view mirror repeats:
the ice is melting.
So therefore there must be heat.
And somewhere there must be
earth, air, fire and water. And
tin, somewhere there must be tin,
global warming tin.

After the storm,
the dirty snow is washing clean.
Eleven steps to go.

Cold and snowy day--
want to send her a letter saying
I am right, you wronged. As if,
in God's grand scheme of things,
it mattered. It doesn't, but you do.

Frozen rain bounces off the street.
Carrying hot soup,
I bounce my way home.

Sitting in the park--
bought and mailed
that birthday present-
still have laundry to do.
The day, like a sparrow,
flits away. As do (as have)
the years.

Dysfunctional,
I left myself
hanging
in the garage.
I knew, just knew,
I should not
have done it.
What to say?
My dreams
were in Ohio,
my heart in
Milwaukee.

"Troopers" (for Martha Ronk)

Irish cross--small
white ceramic-- with
the circle--as if John
Wayne were too a Druid
going round by round
chamber click chamber--
It-I mean the Celtic cross--
glows in the afternoon sunlight.
So think life and death,
think death in life.
Think round beer bottle
stains on the bar--but think.
The cross will glow until
the sun goes down.

My dull whacks
against dead roots
frees the soil
for this year's plants

Soon my watch
will "save time"--
not that I get
any younger

As if I should honor rage,
yesterday's snowflakes
chastized my bare face.

Cold walk to breakfast
after, I leave friends--
the sun is melting the ice...

My sand castles
destroyed,
I swallow salty brine
and live,
really truly live.

Sunday, Monday mornings

Cold the morning walk
finally unzipped,
I enjoy old and new friends.

A blue cloud like a blanket
and small orange-pink ones,
dawn arrives boy girl.

"19"

Walking the Hudson again
--a man kayaks upstream--
I'm still on my diet

What is the danger?
I know that I am known!

Library

Look, everything is here--
except the tubas--which sound
sort of melancholy--like in a
parade or funeral.
And the books, here on the
reading room tables, the books
piled and scattered
and closed,
like ambushed soldiers.

Guardian
our love
reaches out
like dark
between stars.

Smudged at the edges
and blue before black,
my twilight swims before me.

Its sneakers still frayed,
Manhattan pulls up its socks
and strolls into March.