the soprano down on 12th street unleashed the firestorm.

she sucked all the oxygen from the room

filled with despondent artists seeking redemption

from self denigration, despair, uncertainty and chaos.

you must look into her eyes, hold that gaze

and do not waver.

the turbulence unbearable,

the intensity, the burn

of years confessing all but love

that sat in an unopened box

waiting to be claimed.

we were fearless companions in the name of art,

excess and social justice.

oh but for the night of splendor when we touched

the hunger fathoms deep as if we would die of starvation

when our plates were full

the curtain of torrential rain

as the wind shear strengthened

fire whirls exploding, darting about

aimlessly.

compensation for obliteration

of all things known and unknown.

do not look back, do not turn around to see the carnage.

that is what we told ourselves

because it seemed we could not bear

the loss as we watched the dissolution,

as if we would lose everything,

lose it all.

our lives, our loves, our freedom, our history

as confidantes in a reckless and morally incomprehensible world.

we watched as it all burned up

and found

among the charred remains

the box.

Tracing the lines to Orly Airport
baggage gone missing
$200 in my pocket,
two months across the lonely continent.
So tell me, where does the time go?

Thirty years, another opus
stripped bare of non-essentials.
There are no fictions
only roads that lead to impasse.
Or the rotary so notorious
it circles endlessly,
the mind unyielding.

I am the architect of my dreams
I am floating, iridescent on the necklace
of the sea, the horizon
wavers in the distance
unconditional
without intention.
I am fearless
at the center
of truth.

Years compressed
a blank slate the wish
instead of a history redundant,
intransigent, intolerable.
More of the same without a new outcome,
only more virulent in its expression.


Unlike most long term relationships
that fade over time, lose traction,
lose passion, lose significance.
Released unconditionally, untainted by loss.


But this thing, this thing we have created
is darker than dark, from the deepest part of the known,
broadcasts despair and channels ever living memory into
one single thought. When will it ever end?

Just yesterday we walked down Highland Avenue wondering if we'd ever get there but not really caring. Those languid summer nights when the future was left to the imagination. Knowing we walked down that street together and smelled those magnolia blossoms and ran our hands across your bald head, feeling the soft courseness of new growth. That's all, dad. The love, the need, the possibility. The eternal walk. Down the street that matters.

you hate like no one before you.
you excel in the discipline
as if racism and homophobia are lines of reasoning
like cognitive science.
how dare you take over my country
with your white supremacy, your venomous attacks,
your vitriole and your slander.
how dare you instigate right wing militias and foment terror.
how dare you recruit our vulnerable soldiers by
justifying the murder of fundamentalists like you
in the name of the rapture.
and how dare you abduct our children
with your pseudo pop culture rock concerts in Philadelphia,
your propagandist films and your bible belt weekends where you
convince them nothing else matters, not their lives, their love,
their families, their country or their futures.
how dare you.

 - inspired by the documentary SILHOUETTE CITY