Moon Treatment

Weather permitting 

I can be found
In the backyard 

Reclined 

In a tattered lawn chair 

In boxers 

Or an old lover’s bathrobe 

Left behind 

Drink in hand 

Straight up 

Smoking a cheap cigar 

Connecting the dots 

With stars 

Divining new constellations 

And astrological symbols 

Coming to one with 

And accepting 

Welcoming
My inner genius 

With a warm congenial handshake 

People 

Family 

And especially neighbors 

Think I’m fucking 

Missed-the-boat 

Looney toons 

And perhaps I am 

But this moon therapy 

Is healing 

It’s playing a large part 

In my recovery 

My rejuvenation 

Sometimes 

I’ll bring the small transistor out 

And if I can point the antenna 

In the right direction 

I’ll hear all sorts of stuff 

While I sit there 

Breathing out cool air 

Sometimes classical 

Sometimes voices 

Sometimes peaceful static 

That bitch took everything 

I had 

Including my hair 

And now 

Several years later 

I’m healing 

In the moon’s nourishing light 

My hair is growing back 

Salt and pepper 

It’s as if 

Somebody poured bleach 

On all of the stars 

They’re so bright

Living Headless Woman Flowered Bonnet (1937)

Inside the auditorium 

Of one of the city’s 

Smaller theaters

Amongst 

A sizeable crowd 

For such an 

Off Broadway venue 

Professor Egon Heineman 

Had just finished his lecture 

On how he came about 

His latest oddity 

That he was momentarily about 

To expose 

As he had advertised. 

The Living Headless Woman. 

Soon to be unveiled 

Before our very eyes. 

He looked pleased. 

He began to pull back 

The heavy velvet curtain 

But it became stuck. 

A soft 

White feminine hand 

Came from behind 

Purposely 

To help him move the 

Fabric to the side. 

This revealed 

To the astonishment 

Of the audience 

A torso 

Of a woman 

With no head. 

A plate 

Upon her neck 

From which 

Four tubes 

Protruded 

Extending 

Into 

Visible tanks 

Providing her 

With the vital fluids 

To keep her alive. 

“Please warmly welcome Olga!” 

She criss crossed 

Her legs. 

“Are you nervous?” 

He asked. 

Professor Heineman 

Offered her 

A cigarette. 

“Would you like a smoke?” 

Then realizing 

His error 

He corrected himself 

And instead 

Posed 

“Pardon me.” 

“Perhaps you can light mine?” 

The torso’s legs moved again 

As her arm reached 

Forward 

To hold the butane lighter in his hand 

And light his cigarette 

Perfectly 

Without 

Any adjustment. 

A woman in the audience fainted 

Leaning into her partner. 

The chamber in which Olga sat 

Was eerily quiet 

Except for the bubbling tubes 

And vessels. 

The torso 

Nervously 

Tapped her fingers 

On the arms of the chair 

Or fidgeted her hands 

In her lap. 

She was well dressed 

And lovely 

In an evening gown 

And heels. 

She wore pearls 

Around her neck 

And more around her wrists. 

There were sparkling rings 

On several fingers 

Reflecting the golden light 

From within. 

It was easy to imagine 

That she was once from society 

Or a starlet of some sort. 

The body glowed 

There In the box 

As the professor 

Went on about statistics 

Of body temperature 

Diet 

Response 

Cardio... 

All in such a factual 

Scientific way 

That we wanted to believe 

What we saw before us 

Was real. 

Not bothered at all 

By the admission 

That we paid 

To get here. 

“Alas...” 

He exclaimed sadly 

As the curtains closed. 

“She very fondly misses champagne and dancing...” 

“To that my friends, we end this exhibition.” 

“Every day that you are alive, live well...” 

The house lights went on...

Somewhere In Hungary

Far from the commotion 

Of the cities 

Budapest 

Miskoic 

Szeged 

And Debrecen 

A man swallows 

A dram of spirits 

To take off the chill 

Of the early morning fog 

Waiting for him 

Out in the fields 

The woman of the house 

Watches his round figure 

Get smaller 

From the porch 

The morning is 

Not unusually still 

She turns 

And closes the door 

She goes to where 

He left the bottle and glass 

Sits 

And drinks 

Two glasses 
For herself

Anechoic Chamber

A quick search on 

Google 

Mashable 

How Things Work 

And Wikipedia 

Informs me 

That there are 

Tiny ancient ghost-spirits 

Hiding in the hollow caverns 

Of falling snow 

That swallow sound 

In a stormy 

Savage 

Hunger

Eating 

Ravenously 

Din 

And noise 

And pitch 

Of traffic 

Birds 

And children’s voices 

Gone were these 

Leaving 

A DEAFENING quiet 

Over the 

Brilliant white landscape

An inch of rain in 32 degree weather 

Equals 10 inches of snow

Drop that temperature
Down into the 20's
And that increases to 15-20 inches

The snow was coming down 

3+ inches per hour

Plenty of room for covetous ghosts 

The only perceived sonance to be heard 

Was the gale of wind 

Past my ears 

The blood gently pumping 

Through my veins 

And spontaneous firings of the auditory nerves 

As the icy prismic ghosts 

Sparkled behind crystal 

Ingesting everything else 

That wasn’t inside me 

At this point 

Clearly outnumbered 

Combat 

Would be a lost 

Noiseless

Dogfight 

Bear arms my friends

Watch out for black ice

The silence 

These spirits bring 

Could cause 

The crazies 

To step out 

From within

Gospel Man At The Corner Of St. James Street And Clinton Avenue (Kingston, NY)

“I’ve got a seat next to Jesus”

“Lord I do”

“Lord I do”

“I’ve got a home in God’s city”

“Lord I do” 

“Lord I do”

“In Jesus name”

“I’ve got a prayer in my back pocket”

“Lord I do”

“Lord I do”

“I’ve got a home in God’s city”

“Yes I do”

“Lord I do”

“In Jesus name”

“How are you doing on this fine afternoon?”

He asked

Breaking his song.

He sat in a white plastic patio chair

Set up on the sidewalk

In front of the retirement home.

He leaned forward on his walker

While he waited for my response.

“A lot better now that I’ve heard you singing..."
"You’ve got a strong voice.”

I replied.

“Well, hang around then.  Can you spare a few?”

“I can.  I’d be happy to.”

“I’m a sinner, but I think I can handle the chorus.”

He laughed.

“All right then.  You’ll do fine.”

He smiled yellow teeth

As I stood next to him.

“I’ve got a ticket for that glory train”

I’m not a singer.

I'm a sinner.

But the words

Came out of my mouth.

“Lord I do”

“Lord I do”

His voice was more powerful than mine.

Courageous.

But I think I sounded pretty damn good.

“I’ve got a home in God’s city”

“Lord I do”

“Lord I do”

“In Jesus name”

Daddy Ghetto

Cool as ice

Sweet as tea

That’s why 

Mi moza amigas

Put out for me

Strapping and wrapping

Like John Holmes

Well

Not quite

But willing and top billing

To go down

Like

Rhonda Rousey in a fight

Ravens

Five hundred blackbirds

Fell from the sky

Like a fierce peppered rain

Of the darkest color

Several pounds at a time

In rapid succession

No pies to be made

Only funerals