He Didn't Fib, You know The Rest

At times I feel guilty
that I'm a woman of leisure,
and do damn little to better the world,

except drive with care,
be peaceful and go for happy
even when I'm raging mad.

Should I feel guilty? I think not!
Though I'm far from pretty
I know to lay low and fib smart

Clowning with Lipstick

The carpet white
The furniture plush and egg
Down the spiral staircase she descends
in shimmering trembling negligee

The only white not of her
her blushed nipples her engine lipstick

She takes to theatre her little ladder
to do the little morning garden
Shears sharp and silver her idiomatic
She nips the hanging ivy.

Asphalt and Raindrops

Horn blower, thou art, key note poet
Street and town names change, always do
Keepsakes clutch secrets close to the womb

I  jazz quartets
I  portrait strokes in smoky quarters
I tinge binges

Hudson River rains on me once more
Asphalt is my tongue
Teardrops run the gutter

The More Civilized

The more civilized a nation, the more
women have a say in its governance.

Time Fabric

Were all things known
there'd be no reason, no excuse
to call any event an accident.

In weaves of any stripe, each thread measured,
already counted, their ties and strengths pre-qualified
who'd be no surprise that a given curtain rips?

People looking Up

A million people packed sardine tight
This hour of Time Square night
A crystal chandelier slides down the pole.

Quick, y'all, throw bales confetti,
hoping shredded paper don't turn to hale
for already my nuts are freezing on Broadway.

Someone please explain this rite
I might as well be from Mars
though I am Manhattan genuine.

Like It Is

Strange times, indeed!
Like a fly caught on fly paper
I' m stuck to disaster television
of bricks raining down
and steel girders melting.
Bosses and clerks,
Starbucks and computers
hurled out of windows.
Strange times, indeed,
when a jet exits an elevator
and intrudes on the innocent play
of children across the river in Hoboken
Let us pray, therefore, for the elusive peace of Jerusalem.