Category Archives: Complications

Average

The river at its most placid
Is eerily glassy, a flat road,
Unbroken by the rapid whirls 
So familiar on normal days.
Are there normal days, are
The days where the eddies 
Appear normal, and in what
Way are they so? Is normal
The unquiet moving water, 
Running up and down, or so
It seems, or is normal a bar
Too high or too hidebound

Fix it, fix-ins, fixtures

So much madness, crazy 
Stuff, so crazy you only
Can call it shit, crazy shit.
Just reach for the sides,
Sweet potatoes, they will
Save you, I like mine with
Out the marshmallows, I
Know, sweeter maybe is
Better, especially now, I
Agree. Pass the brussel
Sprouts, please. There's
A chandelier at the Met
That just makes me feel
Good, feel better. These
Lights go up before the
Curtain does. At the Met.

Cloudy and hazy

Heat makes me crazy, I
See it irks you, too, this
Hazy, heated oppression, 
Air thicker than its usual
Transparency, its normal
Appearance, would make
Clear. Clarity is not in the
Air. When it's this hot, it
Envelops you, deep into
Your skin, your pores are
Resistant. Heat is sitting 
On the surface, all over
Your body. Hot weather
Let loose, let go. It's hot

Silhouettes

What is it that troubles us
In the darkness of a world
Worshipping the negative,
A reverse image, outlines
Of the positive image we
Have loved to put forth, by
Force, something left in a
Tank of developing fluid,
Chemically enabling the
Vision of light to emerge.
Lightening the corners 
Bringing them out of the
Corners, no longer as sad,
Or dangerous or, dare we
Troubling, as darkness

Hints of darkness

The air smells of the overwrought 
Pasta she'd made last.night, heavy
Like the fevered pieces of seasoned
Gnocchi, overcooked to a hard and
Unyielding patch. The scent is a mix
Of sweet and exotic, almost nice. It Is an aroma at once pleasant and 
Dark. It's clingy like the night that 
Awoke her, insistant, incessant, full
Of its own life, yet lurking in corners

A painting in the darkness

The rooftops, my rooftops have
An Edward Hopper loneliness.
No one lives on a roof, that's an
Of course, so, of course it is a
Lonely landscape. Unpopulated.
We look out upon many signs of
Life. Glimmering lights shine in
High-rise windows. Apartment
Buildings encircle the rooftops
At a not-too distant length. It's 
Near enough to feel as if they
Are the buffer protecting the 
Unoccupied expanse of roof
And shining a warmth, like a
Friendship and a signal of a
Solidarity brightening a dim
Dark night. They stand guard
Over the rooftops, my rooftops