No Pollock emotions

No Pollock emotions

Ebbing like a Rothko

The pulling of the moon

And the slow letting go

Tender in dissections 

Discovering the new

And kindness to others 

On their own avenue

We are all grains of sand

We are all grains of sand
Beached by infinity
Consoling our wash-up
With false divinity

Paradise promises
Extra eternity
Grandiose glory for
Garbage atrocity

Acorns on maple trees

Acorns on maple trees
Tulips blooming on vines
Fascination for strange
Curvatures on straight lines

Exclamation points and
The bolder question mark
Oddities of nature
Simply become trademark

These words are not my voice

These words are not my voice
Which defies description
Forty-eight syllables
Are not my inscription

Life must be lived between
Each poignant graffiti
Many verbs and verbal
Unpoetically

Don’t toss my Renascence

Don’t toss my Renascence
Or mislay my Millay
My words are not Saintly
But Vincent every way

I’m not hearing echoes
Hand me down poetry
Indexed or referenced
Touted as scholarly

February 14th

February 14th
In a New York tower
With snow blowing upward
Like a Queen Anne flower

City that never sleeps
Merely taking a nap
While draped on its shoulders
A snowy cashmere wrap

No love for our garden

No love for our garden
Even daisies are flawed
No path to the future
The river never thawed

A symbol of pure joy
A juicy summer peach
Denied as if it were
A bloody sucking leech