Sunday, August 2, 2015

first love not best love

never will i  forget my first love
remember always will i my best love
to live want  i with the best love
who keeps me coming for more love
she fell off the horse way back when
i was her Sir Galahad, her forever friend
slower my jogging and needing a seat
she kept on running and could not be beat
with my best love i ride and never tire
each other we pace and nothing higher
how could i miss her when she is near
i do not have to kiss her to show her how dear
my first love feels lost with memories of me
i could not satisfy her by pissing on trees
but my best love has acres of territory
endless blank forests for every new story
like a galloping dog near a master's scooter, faster
my best love sits near me on a sofa with laughter 
i am with her even when we are apart
my mind never strays too far from her heart
my best love can find me and knows what to do
the leaves have their season so pick up a few
it feels so right naturally in its place
that is what i see in my best lover's face
though first loves are never worn out or forgotten
i breathe in my best love like air through cotton

8-2-15




Saturday, August 1, 2015

it is time to move on

when flies smell blood
through a slight flesh wound
the lilting tickle is enough
to break my concentration
it is time to move on

when ants scurry around my feet
make an incursion up the flip-flop
onto the foot and across the ankle
inside the pant legs
it is time to move on

another place will not be hard to find
any bench along the Han River line
stay loose and flexible
pack it all up and go
when it is time to move on

all that is here i can do there
with no companion to drag along
bicycle wheels transport themselves
all that i have is in my pockets
when i move on time 

i can write here or write there
no one will care what i say
like a boat passing on the Danube to Vienna 
sits Altenberg and Trotsky at Cafe Central
one stays, one moves on with plans in life

an old man with sorghum bottle canteen
passes by me on time every day 
will see me on an alternate bench
not knowing the reason or sniff the stench
that clearly made me move on up the river

8-1-15




when Mike May died the other night

when Mike May died the other night
there was not much he could do about it
he tried to fight it
the noble notion of fighting to the end
the flight of the tattered peace dove
mostly he had love
and a revolutionary spirit undeterred
in a wasteland called Satan Island NYC
the largest dumpster in the world
Mike May's tarnished flag was unfurled
he laid it on waste
unfurled
screamed himself raw like a punk
ripped his lungs to shreds
what Mike May might have done
if he were not now dead

8-1-15