it's 2;11 where are you, my love?

"genova night prayer"

Blessed are the days and moments of reflection and harmony with life
The seconds of clarity and contentment
To put it all in prospective
The answer is there and purer then ever
Times of frozen photographs in my mind
The tree grows taller and counts it's years in circles
The same for my own hurtles and revolutions
Talk to me when I thought I had it all figured out
You'll know the change has come about
A hundred foreign stamps, pound notes, and pence
You'll know where to go when you're gone
Forlorn grasps to history and ending lines,
reveal repeating past signs of the time
In one nights sleep, I could wake up all my harboring beasts,
and swiftly order them all to retreat
You showed me sands of many colors and faces of many brothers
Even a love that was thought to be freedom,

you slaved me to the truth again
And forever you will, amen

I CANNOT WAIT ANOTHER DAY
TO FIND TRUTH
BURIED
BENEATH THE SANDS
OF A DEEP LAGOON
HIDDEN
FROM THE SUN AND MOON
SHINING
FOR MY EYES
FROM A SHADOWY ROOM

I HAVE ENOUGH WEIGHT
TO SURVIVE MORE THAN A DAY
WITHOUT THE NEED FOR FOOD
WITH THE PAIN
I CAN SUSTAIN
I CAN ENDURE
I WOULD NOT COMPLAIN
I WILL REMAIN
STEADFAST IN FASTING

Hammers and nails, windows and doors; carriage makers swindle; pigeons for breakfast; stones overhang like nervousness; caught light in the sun morning; leopards of health; spotted medallion on the legs of blind martyrs; orphanage blanket holding for comfort; hair in the drain; the noise of bricks thrown in a wheelbarrow; the hiss of steam from a gas main; walking past old houses looking.

Poem of two years past inducted to the American Poets Society June 2003

Riflessione Di Voi In Italia.

Karmacropolis make up your mind.
East bound until swimming
Wash upon shores weightless
Fishing with food and no hooks.
Day bows into moonfilled night
Life walks and huddles with scarves,
Alley kisses cobblestone marbles
Saints smile from doorway arches,
While love leans against the wall.
Forgetting never the moment
Nor the full moon's mysterious caress,
Vowing returnal for the first time.
Gleaming beautifully without words
Breaking fog of dawn
Tunnels through the broken hillside
Lush of life's rooted churches
Feel God close to the ground.
Mama Maria in the Piazza
Look upon gazes of pity for some.
Neptune statue of lime green skin,
Fishes prophet, though not a man's.
Captivity for the sharks.
Unmistakable eyes reappear
Mistaking the distance between memory and touch.
Heart is to hot as the hands are too cold
Shivering inside wools of comfortable warmth
Moonlight shapes a path once again
Casting hazy gloss to the painting
Breathing the closest breath willing.
Wanting the closest, and waiting.

there's another pond
where fish don't belong
only bones of first year trees
they grow within
at the base of my legs to my knees