Marching in Circles

March 2021-

February Evaporation Plan

In a plastic holder posted

on the calendars wall

is this emergency

evaporation plan

for February

a season entrapped

between the beginning

and the ending

Uneasy limbo

this long left over Fall

that never really left anyone

and rumors of a early Spring

yet to arrive.

So stumble in the numbness

of this brown grass with me

yawning in chilly silence.


Pity a month so very short

it stands up on tiptoe

to merely see the empty place

at the table set for it.

Deluded in preview

Obscured in past tense.

Silence marks the short days

towards the long March

away from a Winter that

declined to participate.


So now let the interchangeable

aspects of abandonment and embrace

cancel each on the way out

like fused lynch pins

pulling the freight

laden with baggage

transported from

one faceless depot


anothers’  eyes.




Your Jar of Corks


… missing this lid

absent in burning bridges

run out of rope

in the hangman’s shrug

the coarse fibers rub.


After the trail

after the Kangaroo court

is in recess

will the foreman please

read the verdict ?


Your honor


we find

we are now

a hung jury

but clearly ready

to do our duty.


So let him dangle

till there is this

snap of the neck

of all his memories.


Suspend him upside

down in the town square

afterwards by his

Mussolini heels

and allow all the

amusement in the

jeers and squeals.


and there will not

being any containment

further to consider

other then your

hand left snugly stuck

in a glass mouth

sealing it all off

reaching for the corks

at the bottom.


Uncollected               2/2012




Update from 2/2021

You on Ice

So I’m sitting out in the garage again

having another nervous breakdown

in black and white February Sunday

afternoon and it’s all pretty boring

and there is sound of dripping icicles

from the roof that having dagger like

razor teeth grinning at your emotional

illness and sweating drop after drop

of Crocodile tears that nobody is buying.

So I’m sitting out in the garage again

having the same nervous break down

using the snow banks outside the side door

as beer refrigerators. Each tall neck bottle

loaded in a snow cone slot like a 12 ounce

ordinance on ice.

So I’m stilling out in the garage again

trying to out run another nervous breakdown

by retrieving and detonating the barley grenade

while the snow clings like white wire filings

of cotton to the neck on the bottle.

That’s the good thing about

having another nervous breakdown

while sitting out in the garage on

a black and white February Sunday afternoon. 

No need to buy ice to keep the beer cold.

And you too.

You on Ice.


To Catch the Light

Late Afternoon

February rare sun

snow sets

the white on

orange fire

You ran out her

to try and put it

all out by burying

those bottles

up to the tip of


tall necks

chill golden foam

to try and either warm

or drown the bone.

I rattle the bars

of this cage,

And somewhere else

birds sing lost Summer


train horns.

What’s eating me ?

What’s eating me ?


I can see my breath evaporating

in front of my very eyes.

A faint plume of white

an exhaled ghost.

A wisp of confinement

that endures barely beyond

duration shivering in isolation.


Continue with Me

Continue with me

Time is short

All seconds are precious

The only thing that matters

is the presences of each other

unspeakable conditions

are looming

Time short

Take my hand

The only movement

has to be towards

each other.

There is no time

to waste

Time is short

and far too long

without you and me.

We are haunted empty

mirrors without each other.

Time is Short

We only have time to share

Take my hand

Continue with me.



A few of the bare branches

on the small stunted trees

are casting delicate thin

shadows in India ink

on the immaculate white page

of the great snowy lawn below

resembling Chinese pictographs

And I wonder if

they represent

the concept

the image

for the word or thought


Shadows of small bare trees on a snowy page.                      2/2011

Driven by it

The light that was left

split in sheets

of wind shards

cutting into the air

like icicles jutting

from the gutters

while February staggers

in one premature ejaculated

mild miss-step

false thaw

that nobody believes

a word

about some early

Spring rumored respite

as Winter laughs out loud.

Meanwhile back in the intersection

suspended a single strand of

weaved iron thread a single

traffic control device containing

all the colors that only really matter

hangs stressed in the balance

just waiting

to sway once more

to far

and drop.



February Shorts 2012


Overheard outside the Pre-K Room

And Sara just barely

four screamed in

such exasperated

soap opera desperation…..

You’re ruing my life

While a little boy with

moon shaped head and

big oval eyes remarked

He’s got purple all over his face…

How does he live like that ?



A Beer in Winter

Tonight it feels like

I’m drinking beer

with Dr. Zhivago

Laura’s not coming

but she did send

her wolves.

Blow Me


She took a lot of wind

out of his sails

only fair

she put it there

in the first place.

My Face Won’t Book

His memory is

just this untied

website shoe lace now.

Put that one

up on your fucking wall.

If the shoe fits

Don’t get to excited

you probably have it

on the wrong foot.


You could count all the Carnies in Canarsie

or last Ride on the Cyclone

That Amusement Park

of broken hearts

is regrettably

closed till further notice.

Seems all the rides ?

Got old…..

Dirty Rose

And he finally

spit the bit


a dirty rose.                                                                  2/12

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