Two Lines That You Follow

Two lines that you follow,
Not single file like elementary
School; Two lines not paths, for
There are many paths one
May follow and can cross.


Two lines where-within
structure meets premise
Meets subtext meets
clause meets
Purpose meets context meets.


Meets muse. Two lines where-
Within everything met; in between the
Lines, if you follow.


Plume to ink to sheet
Within two lines you follow.

Up

There is a well I’ve
Known.

A deep grey space that
looks like day old clay

where to
sorrows fled.

I’m sad for sorrow’s sake.

It was deep and grey.
Dwell the well,

Where I fell heavily.

Damp, cold, deep grey
crevasse

Where I
Laughed.

I smiled, as

All the sadness died upward,
Up and Up.

All the way to well,
for sorrows sake.

Steadily Walking Along

Steadily walking along the
Storefronts
Of Bleecker Street
near Charles.

Steadily walking along
what came upon

Me on my night walk –
Not upon me, rather what I
happened upon;

A bar with a blunt name.
A waste truck pulled up.
After, a party of few

Came out to smoke
For outdoor chatter.

Stunted and
Sober the walker.

My foot lay flat
On the wall
By the bar that came
Upon my walk.

Not that came
upon my walk, rather
That I happened
Upon.

Pursuing October

In those days I’d sit

By the window sill

In the cold dark daytimes

Of Winter.

 

I’d hear the blinds in the kitchen

tapping,

Then a chill followed by unwelcome cold

Breeze, from those gray days.

It was not morbid.

I was younger, Reveling in possibilities.

 

My friends would call me in the

Evenings, and we’d be

Be 40 year misanthropes

 

In Manhattan bars.

I was in the mindset of returning

To that small, wooded college

upstate NY, as I took a personal leave.

A sea of papers covered my

Bedroom floor with sophomoric attempts

At a novel.

 

I didn’t mean to make those memories,

Such is the way of nostalgia.

I’d let the tap from the blinds on

the window Keep calling me. I’d light a

cigarette and smoke.

Meticulously in moms kitchen. Letting

 

My thoughts ruminate. Giving into short

circuitry.

 

I didn’t need the Spring to

Bring me to my senses. It was still cold

Out, when I arose from that state

And closed the window shut.