Under sentences

If we are to do it properly

we better leave out some of our

punctuation in New York.

If we are to

having already done

question marks and commas

and full stops around Roma

always reticent and in a trope

making up our names in terza rima

"nell mezzo del cammin di nostra vita"

The southern bell

There are times I can remember the sound

of shovels, rattles and snow

riding the air with contempt

like the sound of a thousand hellos.

My life as a bookkeeper

Just now i've noticed

standing side by side on a shelf 

a copy of "The worst years of your life"

right next to "My life as a man"

and to my left "L'age d'homme"

Life's little jokes...

Mille neuf cent quatre-vingt-dix-sept

At twenty-seven

New York still smells like London

Whisky kills all bacteria and

"Love is a trip to Chinatown"?

What was West End

Is now Lower East

and ninety-seven is

two thousand eight

When I was twenty-five

New York smelled like London

and whisky killed all bacteria

And she arrived like autumn or a rainstorm.

Jealous Dog

Once I turned the TV on

I saw the green grass on the lawn

I don't know why it struck me as odd

that life seemed perfect as a catalogue

I guess I'm just a jealous dog...

I walked into a house of prayer

I didn't feel so welcome there

I was looking for the hand of God

And when it struck me hard 

I was hit by a fraud

Oh the mean mean mouth of a jealous dog...

I had a friend with some handsome traits

When he's done with his dinner he'd lick his plate

It's a way of living that I applaud

Like the message in this monologue

To never be a jealous dog...

Never be a jealous dog...

[k.d. lang]

To your far west

At the porch I can still hear you

and the not too loud noise of a rocking chair

reminding me of this joke we had

about those rednecks and their dreams

of staying there the whole day just to see

if the plain would change, and how I almost got emotional

when, alone, I realized it did

I can retrace the path there once was

now erased by grass as it used to

every summer but by wheat

I can walk down that stream and finish our dam

because only I knew that every night

I went down there to take out a few stones

so that our engineering wouldn't end

Those maybe the clues that held us

together for so long

As in "Life as your favorite pastime"

or "Being your own Sherlock Holmes".

You could never fix your father's pipe

and smoking didn't fit you

as well as it does me

Poor Job

For I would not be like this

... toys

But it may happen to me

... all

And my tongue will not concoct

... evil

Je te veux

-Your music lacks form!

[E. hands in music sheets]

-What are these?

-Trois morceaux en forme de poire!

... Another country, in Europe

-Schumann?

-Sure man!

In a graveyard

A boat beneath a sunny sky

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July -

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear -

Long has paled that sunny sky:

Echoes fade and memories die:

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summer die:

Ever drifting down the stream -

Lingering in the golden gleam - 

Life, what is it but a dream?

[L.C.]

A la Coconut School

[Kenneth Koch]

That would be me reading from Koch's "Straits".

Sweet jan. 2007

New York was our favourite season, if it would only come... [or Do the Astaire!]

My tap dancing shoes, my cigarette fumes

Waltz and dissolve just for you... 

How Life Began

Still missing, in New York.

January in July

It's been long since we last picnicked over the country flag.

The plates were left untouched, and the rest of us were playing outside.

Mice were still asleep in their trap beds covered in high-pressure blankets.

I felt sad, but got no response from over-the-counter medication.

Little did I know... I have now come to realize all the men were dead.

And the rest of us were playing outside with cocking guns.

Out west was our backyard but our compasses pointed north.

From Kinderszenen

With much a do

a stately assassin comes

hidden in a cloak of white

turning stories into hackfleisch

Your carcass a day old

them lilies sitting still

try and ravish the stench

in our limp abattoir

Herzegovino

If i try to leave the house

I've never lived in

there are walls, will fall apart

floorboards will crack, and the rain

drain through as in lanky riverbeds

where the furniture will drown

if it does not refuse to sink.

All of the other things

sank.

Coupe d'état

My coterie thinks they're nonchalant

about everything. Nevertheless, charmant.

But they do cause upheaval

hearing some birds sing 

a schmaltzy tune that says

You're evil and nasty, or should I say pastiche?

To them mockingbirds I reply

"Birdies, luck has turned our way

everyone deserves it's niche"

Em D.

You shoreline tell me

Are those sails at sea

only shadowed by nights

or my usual mourn-to-be?

Come back, come back

waves that break

my ocean's flat.

When i talk about the lives we've never had

Just sit quiet

over the kitchen sink

the cat's asleep

you just can't dream

The milk is bitter

the bread plain mold

Our fridge is full

your body is cold

Clean up the house

while i plan the painting

trying to trap the mouse

I hear you humming

Their barn is not far away

I run to find us a place

and wait for you

to warm up the hay.