I see an image —
is it he?
A young face,
the glare of lights,
and the smell of bottle brush
move with the wind
along the highway.
He is but a drop
in the Milky Way
buried in the cup of his hands
to chase away their nudity.
What has he solved
as he blows that prayer?
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Female Comic Book Superheroes
are always fighting evil in a thong,
pulsing techno soundtrack in the background
as their tiny ankles thwack
against the bulk of male thugs,
They have names like Buffy, Elektra, or Storm
but excel in code decryption, Egyptology, and pyrotechnics.
They pout when tortured, but always escape just in time,
still impeccable in lip gloss and pointy-toed boots,
to rescue [...]
The windows were down
and a wind stirs the fabric
as he sips the dry wine.
On the table lays a photograph
long forgotten and faded.
He leans the seat back
to rest his eyes and remembers
the music played and images flashed
on that hot summer night.
On the table next to the photograph
lays those words in a letter.
What was that song playing [...]
july at dusk
everything is in motion
ribbons of light
race across the sky
summer sunset begins,
painted above the azure ocean
ribbons of light
snake through this dynamic city
rush hour
blur of red and white
here, at sixth and grand
the red light
a glancing touch
an unexpected gesture
a summer kiss…
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Sails line the coast
and the sun reflects
off silver on the table
as I pour my Dos Equis.
The wind flirts
with triangle white
and the waitress’ dress
as Spanish music plays.
Cars arouse the window
with a lively flow
as the waitress
brings my lunch.
Fabric stirs, ice glistens,
the captain’s eye bubble —
I see their brown luster
and wish I could sail.
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Peace
how beautiful the feet of whom publishes peace
allow a pound of peace per couple
peace has a gentleness about it; peace can’t withstand the heat
peace is temperamental
in Palermo, peace, though smothered, is so tender
tender without being mushy. peace reminds us of Spring in Florence
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Part One – May 21st
To a certain extent poetry has become like a tree falling in the forest: usually there is no one around to hear it. This is further evidence of the decline of civilization and – make no mistake – by extension, this area of decline is everyone’s loss, just like the ice [...]
Mexican Light
a poem by Kate Gale
Went to Mexico. Curved sweet tequila light. Lay on blankets on the beach, washed our mouths in the morning. Ate olives with sunshine. Avocados. Street vendors sold popsicles. If someone had a hotel room, we all showered. Our spectacular young bodies curved under water. Our breasts moons. The room was [...]
in those streets, amid the honking
and blaring, shouts and cries
a butterfly
attracted by the yellow
lane lines
thinks there is sustenance,
it floats
downward
like an autumn leave
ignoring traffic noise
the homeless woman who mutters
and raises a fist
skyward
with it’s sole purpose
it’s singular attraction
the monarch
flutters between zooming cars
oblivious to danger
until it is close enough
to realize
this yellow is no flower
no matter, [...]
Foreword by Stan Lerner: I doubt whether the value of every story printed in our nation’s newspapers, told to us on cable, or spoken of on radio, combined, is worth the thought behind one single great work of fiction or even a short little poem.
Parked on Level 3 waiting to start work
I finish a banana [...]
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