In Four Verses
1)
A small paper package
falls empty to the ground
holding nothing but the remnants
of no return.
White powder disintegrates into blood
and the red Continue reading
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Sessions From The Balcony
Love As It Ages:
We are too far away now.
The distance between then and tomorrow
has so many miles between it.
I have memories of heavy rain
falling in an early spring night.
I think of the corner at Avenue A and St. Mark’s
and a place called Stingy Lu-Lu’s,
or Trash and Vaudeville
and the time we passed Continue reading
Dear Mom
I remember when you would make me go upstairs and clean my room. It was early spring and we opened the windows for what seemed to be the first time all year. The house smelled like white linen. You made iced tea, remember? You always made the same brand, but you only made it in the warmer months.
Spring cleaning is what you called it. You made me check my drawers and see which clothes fit and which close we would give away. You had me go through my closet. Not sure if you knew this but my closet was my favorite hiding place. Instead of cleaning my room, I would pile my clothes in a bunch and Continue reading
The Cold Truth
I was around 19 years-old when I saw a violent death for the first time. It was wintertime and Old Country Road was busy with a heavy flow of late rush hour traffic that congested along the strip at the entrance near Fortunoff’s and Roosevelt Field Mall. The cold weather was tightening its grip.
Homes were undergoing the temporary renovation of Continue reading
just a memory
From Sessions in The Balcony:
In the heart of New York City, there is a tall glass building that stands one block east of Columbus Circle on 57th Street at Seventh Avenue. This is home to places like The Brooklyn Diner. This is also where I worked my first shift as an operating engineer.
Reaching high above street level, the commercial office building was headquarters to a large real estate company. There was a radio station. There were attorney offices and media companies. There was Continue reading
Love
She opened the door to her home. Her eyes twinkled from the candlelight that flickered in the living room behind her. Outside, the full moon took its place in the center of an autumn’s night sky. The stars were bright and the wind was brisk and cool. Inside, however, the dim light from her apartment and soft music was nearly as warm as the sensation of her skin.
He thought to himself, “I knew right away.”
Her eyes seemed Continue reading
About Someone ‘Coming Out’
Fall, 1989
There were three buildings at my place in Liberty, New York. The first building was the foremost and closest to the road with a semi-circular driveway. The lawn inside the indentation of the circular driveway was slightly overgrown. The Blacktop was cracked and bulged from the roots of a tree that grew in the lawn. This was the main building where I first made my entryway to undergo 42 days of in-treatment drug rehabilitation. This is house is where the patients Continue reading
this is how the virus spread
Everyone wants to ride high on the wave but no one wants to tumble. And by tumble, I mean crash. No one ever wants their ride to end. No one wants to find themselves faced down in the sand.
But hey, it comes with the territory . . .
I walked across Front Street with two small packages hidden Continue reading
The Blue, The Black, The White
I admit it . . .
I used to call them cops and pigs. I never saw them as policemen or policewomen. I never saw them as man or woman at all. I saw them as a badge and a uniform. I hated them the same as I assumed they hated me.
Given a safe environment, I grew up in a decent neighborhood with few to little stories about major crime. Most Continue reading
The Necessary Scrapes and Bruises of Life
I say we need to scrape our knee once in a while. I say we need the bumps on the head, the black and blue bruises on the arms and legs. We need the scars from a bad idea to remind us what not to do. I say we all fall. Whether we fall flat on our ass or on our face is irrelevant
Falls are necessary. We need to fall sometimes. How else would we learn to stand back up, start over, and continue? How else would we know our own strength if there was no such thing as adversity or opposition?
I remember some of my worst falls. I remember sitting in a small cell, listening to some of the other inmates singing rap songs, and wondering what waited for me the next morning. The two inmates screamed their songs to bounce Continue reading
The Written Addiction 