Fort Poetry

 I  take the dictionary into my hands

and tear out the words that provide conditions

of mere sustenance::::

I step

and adjust the flow

                        of my meanderings

thru the streets

 and carry the burden of my

troubles in tow.

we are greater than words

that vanquish

 idle looks and prophesies,

for life stops according to the hour-glass

of the supreme author;

and that is you with conditions

unknown,

but real////

80 irving park

what do you see in front of you

as you mumble in verse

 holding onto an effigy of landmarks

that once stood, but are now buried

beneath an admixture of confusion.

you are  lost and  somehow

found in places conducive to repetition

as your  violent container is shaken

by moments of dendritic pulse.

with hands stretch outward

you ask for transcendence

away from the anonymous streets of oz

and into a reality much more sane

than here.

winter’s triangle

 my emotions drained by

the constant hum of the stationary system of limits

that shroud the feelings within:

 a cold draft enters and exits

without a voice of concern,

but the breathless symmetry of your voice

freezes me constantly,

 and thus, I begin to pick up

the pieces of myself patiently

 and tape them among the stars

a fate yet undone______.

making change

a swirl of wonderment as

pressed clothes line the barren

halls which find us hidden

beneath the sentry doors of

cities like this one

 a continuance of bills paid

 in troubled quarters.

Red Line

a wink of recognition as she follows me

in quiet contentment______

we envelop our hands

 for we will soon pay postage at a later date

yet to be determined or not

by possible moments of serendipity;

but I am still here

constructing those humble tracks

and setting into motion

my undivided attention and care.

isle of beginnings

the  leaves have vanished

and light struggles to find comfort

along narrow corridors of open

cuts that slice through the heart

of the cloud laden sky______

and what’s released is

a torrent of technicalities further

collected and driven towards the

saltiness that burns without

and is soon covered

and diluted again

with the new fallen snow.

K St. Meets State St.

 as you pay the cab fare

a stream of turbidity meets you

 and conclusions still arise__

but then they are sent back

to be reviewed by loitering madmen

counting down the minutes

 possessed by the tentative illusions that

control the surface of your gray matter

that awaits a jolt to be revived

 in plain view of the witnesses of your peers

who become cynics with every syllable

of self-referencial voyeurism

dead to the world______.

wicker park stroll

immeasurable concern

inspires a street curb slip______

 you regain composure

and continue to press buttons

 that glow with possibility  

with every thought

 as you

begin to enumerate

in symbolic logic______.

room 254

I place my unblemished coffee cup

on the slate countertop;

 its thunderous din

sets off a fire alarm of contentious thoughts

that plague me,

but I pay no heed to them

for they are less real than the plots I conjure up;

therefore, I fold them neatly between napkins

 under the chilly placid morning

which breeds fear and uncertainty.

I open the door of fate and peer towards the steam

that billows forth upwards unimpeded:

 a manifestation of imaginative thoughts

representing each burst of light

 in and around, the periphery of our minds

that become contextualized and codified

 again…and again…

until at last we dissipate,

 and return hopefully_______

better than before.

divided heavenly solar systems

there is this final cause

 as mental connections

 conceive and remain

bringing  forth sweet desires

that strike at the heart once again.

communication patterns stay static

like before 

as we have already departed

on another journey of our own

with others in observation____.

So in becoming

we begin to understand that the

universe directs us into another’s universe

that remains hidden until we

activate the first cause.