Nouvelle Vague

Always in Paris

Gray and chilled,

 Just after a rain

With mist in the air

Like a smokey room

Filmed in thick grains.

The sheer stark beauty

Of Tri-X film

Pushed two stops

Like a slow jazz riff

In black and white.

The cafes seemed better then,

So littered with American signs

And the pre-Mersey beat

Of early rock n roll

In a post-bohemian sigh

Laced in Gauloise Bleu and

Where the women were

Sleek as sorrowful fawns

With Botticelli eyes,

So studied in the ways

Of Montaigne and Marilyn Monroe.

The frantic roil

Of each New Wave

Childish in its feelings

And ancient in its thoughts,

Until it vanished

In the Merry May

Of a Maoist haze

And a Los Angeleno

Daze.

Each Day

Each day
Dissolves
Like dew.
Each day
Descends
To darkness
Falls.
Each day
Repeats
Its dawn.

Scattered lives
Entwined like
Webs.
Scattered thoughts
Unwound
So slowly
Like tumbleweed
In a desert
Breeze.

Nothing last
It seems
And nothing
Adds with
Interest
Till all the
Zeros
Tally in an
Endless row.

Once, in the
Facing mirrors of
A barbershop
I could see the
Future.
An Infinite loop
That stretched
Forever
Like a dream.

In a Time of Disorder

We live in a time of disorder

Where every feeling has been devalued

Like tarnished gold in the back

Of a cluttered closet with a door

That has warped from a long rain

And the water pooled along the floor

Soaking old diaries till the ink bleeds,

Like tears smudging every page.

It is a time of disorder

As people lumber through life

As sullen movie-fried zombies

Staggering in shock and stupor

In a panic search for some

Dim memory of passing joy.

Perhaps forgotten love or

Fleeting glimpses of vague

Passions that once seemed real

Like an old aching bone

Until a terrible shadow stirred.

A rude awakening that was neither

Real nor dream but some poor

Land strangely in between.

Neither act nor shadow,

Neither life nor dream.

For we live in a tide of disorder

And the old bearded man

In the junk yard screams

That the dialectic is not a dream.

More a burden, it sometimes seems.

Never ending, sight unseen,

Relentless and unbending.

More remote than any star.

More relentless than any sea.

The River

The muddy river

Spirals like a striking snake,

The shore always moves.

The Deer

Deer in the cross-hair,

Eyes focused on the twilight.

Life should be so calm.

A Bird

The bird trills each day

In dank woods and dry fields.

I can never sang.

Early Spring

The cherry blossoms
Fall and drift in currents free.
I must sweep today.

Occupy

Occupy

Your life,

Your honor,

Your world,

Your soul,

Your mind.

So occupy

Your dreams,

Your hopes,

Your thoughts,

Your fears.

You must occupy

Your present,

Your future,

Your now

And forever.

In Memory

Old beliefs die hard,

My friend.

The workers paradise

And all

The glorious future

You once invested with

Hopes and dreams.

Mere objects that have

Stumbled into the furnace

(Like that stupid sled

At the movie's end).

During the waning days

You often asked me

To close a window

That wasn't there

While you enjoyed,

In your hospital bed,

A pleasant bus ride

Down Fifth Avenue.

I spared you from

The priest you didn't want

(But only because you

Had to beat the doctor's

Estimate – patience may not

Have been your biggest virtue).

Later,

Once the bed was stripped

And empty,

I was left with many things.

Old clothes and socks

And many, many clocks

(None of which were in

Agreement).