silhouettes
black on grey
struggle
against their dark weight

wings beating
wildly
to avoid
the crash

grey and black
and powerful

its pointed cone
***** in
all shapes and colors

we do not know
how
where
if

they come back

lost in alien space
Italians
posted their home culture
and worked for it

today
America

and the whole western world

would starve to death
without pasta pizza
and Michelangelo

We are

live wires.


There is a

trembling of

electricity

just beneath

our skin,


a desire

as old as

time moist and

ready upon

our lips.


a lover's

siren call,


you the

muse

right in

front of me.


to hold

to cherish,


to bury my

desires deep

inside you

with passion

and rhythm

of heart.


and in this

moment who

could ask heaven

and earth

for more

than to simply

see your face

and say


" hello".

Again this

morning I

saw her,

Patty.


She sits

at the bus stop

wishing for

the big

yellow bus to

come,


or is it

the next one,

or the one

after that.


Life has hit

her hard,

open wounds

easy to read.


She doesn't belong

to anyone else

anymore.


Her broken heart

out of rhythm

kicked to

the side

of the road

and forgotten.


so she

just sits

under the

early morning

light.


once she

was somebody's

newborn baby,


once I imagine

she could

have been

a beauty,

but that was

along time

ago.


Before the

savage teeth

of crystal ****

took it's

first deep bite,

and then

each night

came to

feed upon

her again,

and again

and again.


now she

just wanders

around the city,

panhandling

here panhandling

there 25 bucks

to lie down in

the back of

your car.


it's Monday

9 am I witness

her in her

same familiar spot.


I pray to myself

"my God, I hope

she makes

it to ten."

When Lot’s wife shook with
Anger or fear, and looked back -
What there did she see?