cliff driving

breaking inside
so this is what it feels like
not so bad
I can ride this out
my Harley is jacked
chiseled with painted flames
and gassed up
plan on doing the 218
you know, the black zigzag along the Hudson
when me and the Harley squeeze
the sharpest cliffs and steepest drop
I’m gonna leap off the saddle
and let that tricked-out bike fly solo
there goes my pain
crashing with mortal heat
into the frigid river

bike babea bicycle she rides, but we can pretend it’s a big, awesome Harley

Thoughts to Nepal – may the death toll stop rising and the injured get the help they need

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rivers of white

I don’t sleep the way I used to, in quiet spells of dreams and cool twists
I can’t possibly go up those tall stairs to my bedroom
without releasing the weight of my fingers into another space
my hands will push letters and rivers of white will burst outside of my head
I will say things I would not do
I will do things I would never say
caught in between, like a sturgeon and the silt
words as floppy as fishes
will swim upstream to spawn
if not completely undone by the journey
will develop into erstwhile muses, and swim back in the other direction
sturgeonsturgeon created with marker and a touch of white acrylic a few weeks ago
•sturgeons are in trouble, over the years their numbers have significantly dropped
•the term “rivers of white” is a traditional typesetter’s term for irregular word spacing, when attempting to justify copy (justify = both left and right margins are flush)