Wilderness Abstractions

Wilderness Abstractions

Again I trudge through

porcelain drifts and razor

blade flakes hacking down

my bitter Spring prophecies

Again the nuances of this

defiant New England season

stimulates consciousness with

abstractions, contradictions,

awakenings, misplacements.

Again I see social analyses

feeding the energies of class struggle

within the bleak cyrogenic stalks

of slumbering trees.



Where sweet things reside

Where sweet things reside

In the midst

of current tasks,

I’m drawn back

to summer afternoons

at Grandma’s flat.

Atop an amber-lighted

kitchen table,

succulent sap-sweet

lemon cakes

sleep in tin foiled safe homes;

dream in sealed plastic wrap,

guarding generational

culinary secrets





Big City America


Big City America

It’s an eternal summer

in Big City America.

Brother Sun shines his upper-class

blessings on the gentrified metro.

Brooklyn, South-End Boston, Bella Vista,

Bed-Stuy, (White) Chocolate City

grin like Cheshire Cats,

smoking the cigars of reborn status.


It’s an eternal winter

in Big City America.

Sister Storm cloud rains and snows

her working-class maladies

on the broken neighbourhoods and projects.

South-East DC, North Philly, South-Side Chicago,

Spanish Harlem, Detroit,

frown like a night-nauseous moon

standing in line, restlessly,

for that stillborn star-spangled dream.



Three huikus


Wear life as a hat

               when it rains pull in closer

                       when it pours, pull it off, dance


Be the difference.

Be as salt in the ocean;

and sun in the storm

Brief words for late Autumn

There are swaying trees

whose dying leaves age golden

when old May greets June

Verses on autumn

What is there not to love about autumn? Falling amber and golden brown leaves crackling underfoot, the return of football and the magic of the Fall Classic, thanksgiving turkeys, grandma’s wool sweaters and that brisk wind that fills the lungs.

Here are some verses by Katherine Mansfield:

Autumn Song by Katherine Mansfield
Now’s the time when children’s noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
Where the juicy apples grow,
And tomatoes in a row.And to-day the hardened sinner
Never could be late for dinner,
But will jump up to the table
Just as soon as he is able,
Ask for three times hot roast mutton–
Oh! the shocking little glutton.Come then, find your ball and racket,
Pop into your winter jacket,
With the lovely bear-skin lining.
While the sun is brightly shining,
Let us run and play together
And just love the autumn weather.