Do I Envy Him Too?

Boy stands on his tip toes nearly climbing out the window of the train,
Naming old red fire-windowed five story walk-ups
In the late afternoon.

The Dog Park On Friday Before Leaving New York For A While, When I Suddenly Wanted To Stay.

At the park he stands elevated
In what might be an authoritative way,
But for the way
His brow dips down.

But for the way
His great broad shouldered Husky Dog
Leaps for him and darts away laughing.
His eyes chase the beast gently
Not jealous so much,
Not jealous.

They share one thing quietly, this:
A trust in the world.

I heard a secret there.

Inspiration

anyone lived in a pretty how town 

by E. E. Cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Writing Home

fifty two.

Here's the thing about it Daddy,

I watch from high up on

The mean red mountain that peers over the skyline,

To watch the city.

I watch the city from there and

This heart beats heavy over the bridge

I see her mean red

Sunset lit skin 

Rise up behind a lego skyline.

The whole city expand and contract and cave in on her self

And throw her head back and show me her naked chest

Thick and knotted up with street veins pumping taxis 

To the time of that beet red beat.

On the edge of the divide,

I throw some perfectly good things into the water

I hardly know why. 

I throw inanimate objects or an inanimate friend or an animate one
Or something similar

Into the water

Until my pockets are empty, and my hands
Catch a little of that red light bouncing off the city.

Then the fresh start:

I collect other things from this place, things somebody else let go.
Because they're sad sitting there in the water and they probably think they're flying.

I think I'm not yet like a person who's got a home.

Then the other thing is
I'm the air daddy,

I'm the hot thick summer air 

Growing through all these tight uncomfortable streets
And the people look like melted gold

I collect them streets like little toys up out the water
In the way that I lose them as I go

And between the houses and around the corners I'm running from them

Running like mad, invisible

Strangling them as I go

Make sure everybody got to swim or float

More so then fly

I hate that hateful air, daddy.

She thinks she own the red road

She thinks she can just wait out everybody with her angry hot stench
That makes people glow
That makes the city this sleek slick oil

But she's me or a part of me somehow.

And sometimes she thinks there isn't a soul in this place got a home,

Just a timber building front

On the ghost town set of a new frontier. 

The Old Man And The,

fifty one.

Deadly things find me in the dreams I dream

Once upon a time there was a wicked man

Deadly things find me in the songs I sing

He ran through the streets banging pots and pans

Deadly things find me in the pages I write

He beckoned the day with a sailor's tongue

Deadly things grin in the dead of the night

Stumbling and sneering at the pretty, the young

Pretty things wrapped in the devil's shroud

Wicked he'd laugh and wicked he'd cry

Pretty things quiet and deadly things loud

Wicked he'd brush a rogue tear from his eye

Deadly things chase me, mock me in fright

Tarnished and wrinkled and lonely was he

Deadly things follow me up into flight

When nearing the end, fell into the sea

Deadly things whisper in sinister hiss

Licked by the waves, beached on the sand

Deadly things tuck me in with prayer and a kiss

He followed the line of his life on his hand

Listenin' to deadly things, shallow they breathe

Did god ever know him, did god ever care?

But death ain't so ugly when the pretty things leave

Did god ever see him, was god ever there?

A Study.

fifty.

I have grown loud 

And violent

And drunk.

Speaking in grandiose gestures as though 

I have something to say, that 

Hasn't been said before.

I speak--

Too much, my lips tremble in between.

I offend

I declare

I become a fool.

I didn't intend--but wait!

This next part is important:

I think.

I am.

I know.

I FEEL.

I WANT.

I DO.

And--

I forget, or fall asleep laughing.

Boston

forty nine.

Is this exhaustion?

And of what do I dream?

(Do we dream?)

We walk always in that head of yours,

Crouch behind the eyes and look at the

Ground that way.

Drag our head through sky.

I know very little of myself I think,

These days.

I am changing too quick

And too well.

But I know much of you.

Is that true? Is it just that I

Know the texture of your skin--

As though it were my own?

(I crave it still)

Then this dense inhalation.

Out there 

Standing on snow, 
Out there

On the steps that lead into your apartment.

Inhalation that freezes my throat
That rips at my lungs,

And the breathing out.
(It pushes just past my lips

Before stopping.)

Out here,

How vivid the blue light looks.

I crave you still.