cracked plaster fountains
breathing poland spring singing
brazilian dance; bossa nova sunshine
yellow light, beating without much deadened
sighs--you are silent; ignoring
that the world will end someday
soon, too soon
we will lose you--the fountains sing
ipanema crying, my girl
my silent Amore.

old coffee and yellow tissue
bitter as black rust, crowded streets.
into drowning citites, i disappear
into a sea of suits and acid rain
you wait at the broken cafe

i keep your poetry etched in the rough aortas
of my drunken heart.

dark glasses protect me from the blinded sun
the burning freelance flames dancing in the asphalt roads
brick roads are scarce nowadays
alice... my amore, you have to find yourself
beyond this dreary lounge
this poor purgatorio of empty souls
empty sighs within hollow withering words
silent sulfur signatures cracked into the plaster
of your arm, your broken arm, this damaged cafe
my sick heart, wrapped in twisted life strings
cringing, singing bossa nova into deaf ears
ipanema in blind flames...my alice
my crying alice.

brown and burning film
capturing this summer day's rain
signing empty contracts
that already are vanishing like ancient stone and rome
italy in friendly sunrise
burning with yellowing flames
film noir flames, starlight
the dead stars now sparkling in your eyes
were once a city of grafitti
inverted like soft mirrors
liquid vanity and silent spring
plaster fountains
brazil and rome extinguished
by the rough geometric tears in your eyes
dead stars dying with melancholy rain.

my sorrow'd dear, my bitter'd sweet
my friday street in nighttime sleep
drowning street, crowded, ignored
i passed by your eyes(and supernovas) and moved to see you better
your place among definite photographs
epitaphs, graveyard night lights
shallow moon, soft neon
blinking in heartbeat
bossa nova metre, ipanema street
broken cafe--dismal homes
poetry houses smiling in inverted mirrors
truer truths than tangent tragedy.
distant galaxies bouncing into the reflection
inside your coffee mug.

my soul's song and my mind's guitar
playing old songs on my alcoholic radio.

drunken glass, smoking breaths.




"passing by the pedestrian lane,
i see you on the other side of the road
your bus taking you away to life most distant to me,
unreal as fiction, dream woven into life.
you board the impatient vehicle.
and will i see you in sleep?
know that in sleep i shall see you nevermore."

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