RAGGED GRANULES

The crossing of shadows marks street windows with blurred reflections absent of color. Quick steps and shoulders slip the stream.  The sidewalk is a meadow of shoes, turning, twisting, scuffed and shined, all with purpose and impatience. The people are a mix of ragged granules; the sands of a city shoreline on the move.  Eye … More RAGGED GRANULES

BURN OFF

We become reduced by the strength of day; it starts like honey but can turn to tar. We seek shade under the cool of willows, harmless on a rivers edge, there branches whisper as breezes slip through. Songs of riches bring us to the mountain of hope. Wealth fails to provide the joy as seasons … More BURN OFF

BREATHING GRAY

        He came from no place good; unpaved roads lick his dusty feet. Magnolias fold at his passing, mourning his loss and without.   There are no warnings within him. No trappings snare his feet. His words are swollen streams, turning violent winds into jazz, soaking faces with song.   He’s been … More BREATHING GRAY

DEEP POCKETS

Under the skin, a motor of sound. Molasses fingertips play dark thick jazz. Wet soaked dirt roads kick start the aroma of his thoughts. Smooth perfumed skin smiles into his lust. His mile of strong words runs like a river engine; a power few own. A wind moves on a sweet green growing field. His … More DEEP POCKETS

HARLEM

Wide streets cluttered with life. Threads of voices.  Open market. Awnings with stripes.  Aprons with pockets.  Busy hands, strong and soft.  Silk skirts.  Cut flowers, carnation strong.  Youth with a vision. The world moving on sidewalks. Colorful hydrants.  White walled tires. Black Cadillac’s.  Patent leather shoes. Gold chains.  Grandmothers watching. Package store drinkers.  Trucks and … More HARLEM

ARRIVING

The sight of day vanishes as if cut. Underground tremors release into tunnels creating monster echoes. The train becomes absorbed in an ocean of dark air. Doors fling open. Warm gaseous fumes slap morning faces. The platform fills with legs and shoes and eyes looking down; children are still home in bed. The atrium fills … More ARRIVING

AT THE TOP

His arms were roots, thirsty for water; its color and taste indifferent to his lust.   His hair boasted unruliness, dry and odd shaped, like unkempt fields leaning from wild winds.   He disconnected himself, inventing sounds from tears while his skin was sore from long work and seeing empty plates and passing rocks that … More AT THE TOP

MISTS OF HEAVEN

The leaves of his life float on streams created by a curious desire to be someplace else. Dust turns up behind footsteps soothing the travel born to him. Heavy doors swing shut on the pain of uncorrected loves and insincere handshakes. Clouds are his canopy of protection, a mist of heaven, covering what he has … More MISTS OF HEAVEN

LOST COMFORT

Without organization, a coat, lonely for companionship hangs without distinction, a country away from newness where its cloth once renewed its owner with warmth now holds those truths in forever silence with empty pockets abandoned into solitary disgrace, Its threads softening Into age from idle time while fading to the fallen and the relinquished, the … More LOST COMFORT

SECOND CHANCES

The pull of gravity provides a slow blink of reality and caution.   Unfamiliar dreams of eyes with stars, kings of stone, and watch towers under gray slate skies create the beginning of desperate ambitions.   Repentant knees drop with emotion, praying for pockets of hope and second chances.