It is romantic, how I live

sitting alone in a diner in Queens

with scattered crazies talking to themselves

drinking coffee

staring at the bustle and hustle

of the rest of the city

rustling through the concrete jungle at quittin’ time.

I often dream of nostalgia

yet still find myself managing

to move forward with life.

I try not to follow form

try to stay still, silent

stand on the outs and watch

moments

all the thousands of wonderful

moments often missed by being too-something

A romantic as myself

lives within these simple moments of passing

One quixotic as myself

disregards the future

prefers to sit quietly

and fall in love

with everyone

and everything

every moment

af

(written with pen on paper)

I have stared at the wall for a good part of my life

the proverbial wall

the brick one

the papered one

the invisible one

the obvious one

The process goes as follows:

a spark, inside

(proverbial, once again),

ignites an idea

one that will change the world

a concept so profound

wars will end

peace will reign

artists will seize control

I begin pacing

first in place

then among any swath of land I can find footing on.

The movements become brisk,

the plot more complex,

the concept even more genius than originally conceived

Kingdoms begin to fall.

Music begins to saturate every hallow space

like water poured over the dirt.

Strength, power, confidence, assurance

swells, expands, bloats

I think this is perfect

then I think this is too perfect

(peak reached)

(descent commence)

My pace slows a step as I find

a flaw

then a hiccup

then a challenge

finally, a problem presents itself.

A problem always presents itself

right as I lift my foot for that first step.

I hesitate, I ponder

dip my toes in the fresh mud

another hiccup

another problem.

Foot still in the air, ready to begin;

the other, ankle deep

Challenge begets challenge

combines

creates one bigger

too big for my mind to decipher

I stop pacing, try to breathe

but I’m being submerged, static and stoically.

I cannot scream, cannot release pressure

nothing works

simplify

all I hear

simplify

I begin to strip

words, inferior ideas, accomplishments

simplify

hope, faith, belief

it all comes off

Back tense, knees locked

the nerves in my neck begin to pinch

concentrated heat fires through every capillary

And that’s when it happens;

a tiny click amongst the blood-curdling roar of my frustration

a tiny click to bring my consciousness

back to the moment, the idea

the profundity.

I realize, then, that all I have done

besides dream beyond the universes,

is stare at this ever-descriptive wall

and wonder,

now that I have placed my foot back down beside myself,

when my next opportunity will be,

my next spark,

to attempt to take that first step.

af

(written with pen on paper)

I believe we have made a mistake,

most of us who make up humanity

we have come to believe that

the heart contains our soul

and that that soul has a voice

and that we are in fact multiple entities that create one

often with the mind

proudly

playing the antagonist

to our will

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The day has come!

Cut through the food, the fat, the gluttony,

it is time to kick it into high gear.

Let the alcohol lull the body to sleep for a brief two hours,

soon it will still be dark out

and we will all come together and ask the same question

as we did last year

Why?

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(step…step…step…step…)

(…breathe…)

(…breathe…)

bones ache

but I see it

keep going

keep going

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appropriate number for a stranger

insignificant enough to earn itself merit by its own existence

close enough for a what-could-be

equal parts disinterest and intrigue

nothing perfect in the position

yet still sneaking looks to be sure of its presence

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sub
instead of
or intransitive verb
acting as an instead of rather than the real thing
is the submarine heading into the dark waters
(don’t believe them, it’s actually quite warm in there)
is the sub’s meaning only to bring down the rest of the words

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