Transit Stop

Even while doing nothing

One wants to do less

As we worry and bother

We settle for the stress

That first caress, nevertheless

Carries a rare perfume

Unzipping her dress

In a warm, candlelit room

The tune is minimalist

Piano played; key by key

Out across the runway mist

Nothing more, but, I want to be

Redeemed by the deeper kiss

Whose mistress knows no bounds

Her sounds float towards the bliss

Infiniteness, from sky to ground

That we found in his mind, by

A kind meditation, on the curved

Crescent of a station, sensations

Of pasts, absorbed by those present

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Recliners

Her legs move, as would a lovers legs

She begs to stretch out

To the tips of her extremities

There is a small delay

As if the dream

Is warning the stroll of her fingers

She lingers, takes time out

To check her nails; she fails

Entirely to distract my attention

I only mention this

As an old man in an airport

With all the while to cream off

The edges of his youth

Long past searching for truth

He is becoming a fan of erotica

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

R & R

Almost the final patrons

In the university museum cafe

Until two sisters enter

Glasses, worn for indignation

Which may soon be released

If the counter staff do not return

Why would I make it difficult

Keep it sweet, keep it short

Keep it within the limitations

I often make ill defined connections

From this obscurity to that, from

One nowhere circumstance, to another

As in the letters

Where the flow is lost;

One river stops

One river starts

Discontinuing their

Breaks in continuity

Where tired shoes tramp off

Without guidance; their footfalls

Fall where footfalls have always fallen

Stolen, from the lack of a campaign

Without cause enough to believe in

As if to say: Yes, I am treading water

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Royal

Tiredness takes me

To the coffee shop

Already I feel slightly lighter

As I remember the young man

With puffed up eyes; his lost gaze

Makes me feel way more fortunate

It wouldn’t do

To focus on negativity

The day to day of her life

Is way too beautiful

I have found a seat, in

The museums upstairs alcove

With a window, to a tree

Whose sticky buds welcome

The somewhat delayed turn

From winter to spring

It is more true

The locus of connectivity

The time to time of seasons

She is so sure of beauty

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop

Vigour

Brown and green and intense

Navy and neat and no pretence

Not so for those who quietly view

To yawn with absolute splendour

All intent of boredom

Theirs to eschew

With the strength

To defend attention

Contemplating

Most, or all of the truth

Sufficient to walk, crossflow

Across the floorboards

We, who wait to see why

It is she who takes the next step

This is a poem from Vagaries:

Love of The Key to Room 149

Available as ebook from Kindle
or as a homemade print book and audio cd from  poetryshop