Long Monoliths Poems

The Enchanted City of Dual Realms
In the sprawling labyrinth of concrete towers and spectral glass,
where skyscrapers, like ancient obelisks, pierce the celestial veil with unyielding ambition,
serpentine rivers of fortune murmur in arcane tongues, their secrets...

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My physical self is pitiful

I have been incapacitated since an early age

Inadequate in every regard

My body is a useless shell

Luckily, this place is beyond basic physicalities

This place transcends the grim and darkness of reality

This place...

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      In the purple shadows of the black's monoliths, where an ancient echo calls forth, at the blurry forge of "Ralkon Dis",
a salient dragon from mystery's petra cliffs drifts you...

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Marching out of the cloaked shires
Of landowners, stockbrokers, 
Hereditary Peers, and ruddy faced 
Squires:
A vast multitude of many varied 
Tribes.
Amassing in the great cities, where,
Inhabiting shadowy chambers, 
Behind nodding sighs and hushed 
Whispers, 
The Masonic...

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On a rural Pequot River,
with steady New England flow
toward Long Island's warming Sound

Then on and out, 
whispering drowned memories
of Atlantis

Slumbering on eastern bank,
surrounded by Native Elder spirit grounds,
ruined medicine's monolithic altars
worship insanely leviathan 
brooding bruised...

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I Send This Letter, Like A Message
Drumming Like Earth’s Hearts-Tribal
It Is A Lover’s Letter To You
Sent Like A Heaven-Sent Bible
Filled With Love –Just Like A Bible

My Lovely One –I Know Its Been Hard
During Our Separation
Its...

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Sitting here at my desk
Two hundred meters above
I watch the bustle of life below.
The slow moving traffic, the crowd at lunch-time
Pedestrians at the traffic lights
Heavy blue-black glass blocks towering to the skies.
 
In this austere...

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The spearheads are keeping a tight formation,
pride keeping the body upright,
raking claws are sometimes raking home,
they find their way past sagging shields.
What deep wounds these claws do cause,
yet bloodied these spearheads do stand,
needle-sharp pain ne'er...

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The road to my backyard is long and straight
Evergreen trees abound and provide welcome shade
Home to myriad birds, butterflies and the bees
Last summer their branches were sawn off, without notice
The orgy with power-saws lasted barely...

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Mountains

As I look out from my window
I see there are mountains for me to climb
I would not much like to ignore them
But there waiting there for me; all the time

And though their boulders seem so...

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Manhattan Soliloquy

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

8/27/16



Just had shrimp and grits
Beside scrambled eggs whipped up with a whisk

Been a long time since
I've had some fish and chips


Went on many different trips
Some of which
Were on ships
And others were above waterfalls and cliffs

Back...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)
   

As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic,...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)


As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)


As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a...

Read More

That room; 
And the bathroom too, 
She made them alien territory. 
My petty sentiments kicked in, 
And made me a slave to my roommate. 

The scented atmosphere, stockings; 
Frilly brassieres in plain sight, 
And blouses...

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Is it truly death they fear, or the unraveling of their illusory self-importance,
as they tread through existence, erecting fragile monoliths of their ephemeral legacy,
believing their names will resonate through ages, as if permanence were a...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)


As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a...

Read More