In western Massachusetts
I would find my lake.
Water lilies sprouting like millions of old friends in greeting.
Purple Wildflowers swimming across the water and
Blue fish nibbling toes

In Vermont the vast sky would appear over green hills carved by gods hands

Valleys howling like the coyote calls into the wind.
I would find clouds in the shape of gods and goddesses making love,
A wise woman and my sense of smell.

I would find the teasing sun creeping into the morning’s window like a curious child

Maine of course would bring me the ocean with its salt air.
Pink granite rock on coasts
Tide pools with red starfish
The sea moving boats gently into the harbor.
Here I'd find my chowder and lobster huts.
My roaring fire pits
And roasted marshmallows
Not to mention ferocious mosquito’s.

New Hampshire would neatly fold every place before it and wrap it into silk cloth,
It would include its star lit skies,
Its bay, it's canvas sails,
Its barns and rolled hay
Mount Washington watching over
Nickering horses and fishing villages
It would tie a red bow around the silk like
A package to be sent into the drawers of memories.

the cat.
pacing.
from living room to bedroom
slowly stopping
at the front door
tilting her head to check the time
realizing the sun has passed.

it is that moment in the day.
the wooden doorway scratch
the feline yawn of exasperation
licking lips
staring at the door patiently awaiting
supper.

I can't wait for this trip.
Maybe I'll find myself lost near a coastline and take a picture.
I want to meet the lady who plays her violin for the seals.

i feel like writing.
Like having it be weapons.
Intriguing and mute.

Maybe...
It's because I just don't feel like fucking writing.
Or having everyone read me
feeling like they somehow connect with me but
I hear nothing from you.
(not knowing me at all)

Maybe I don't want to give out treats while my hearts been broken.

I feel sorry for that girl that posts photographs of herself half naked, looking like a junkie by the way.

Natalya speaks broken English
She types leaving out verbs.
She's in charge of my case but hardly communicates with me
Opting discussing my business with Hugh

Poor Hugh,
Forging, welding, building, surviving, being a secretary. Trying to understand broken English. Doing everything, and always holding me. Never forgetting to love me. Rearranging his life, simply to make mine easier

Seeing such selfless beauty makes my heart hurt a little.

The rain just can not be good for this-
having my grandmother running off scared.
Wondering if I'll ever stop the tears from falling
drowning deep.

for Dori

An off duty New York cop was
Killed by friendly fire here -
He was innocent, running after a thief
One brother shot by another brother.

I can't grasp the meaning of friendly fire.
There's just nothing friendly about
a bullet intentionally released through the air
Readying to kill.
Imagining animal stampedes.

His family and friends
Placing candles and flowers outside his home in Brooklyn.
A makeshift memorial blooming with tears.
A heartbreaking song filling dense air.

The flower petals drying out and falling from stems
Scattered along the concrete,
Still pungent in color
Tunneling in circles from the wind and
Eventually being chased down streets
The gusts making sounds like sirens
Only to find a lonely tree branch to settle into to rest.

Sometimes
While procrastinating
I've been known to watch
No Reservations at
One o'clock.

I know full well Tony is
A cocky egotistical asshole who smokes too much and will
Most likely die of liver failure but
This man eats a certain way that makes my mouth water.
Watching people eat usually disgusts me.

On days like today
Where my body won't do things right
And my mind wanders off down the wrong way
Storm waves crashing on concrete jetties
And receading back to the mouths of nature, swallowing whole,

I find myself crying.

The world spins webs of anger
My ears ring,
My eyes see truth and fog
I keep checking emails hoping
Someone will write and hold me in their arms and give me answered to questions
I haven't asked

My cat watches from across
The room
While I spill my tears to her

She has no opinion,
she let's my cry
Eventually sitting by me while
I sing her silly lullabies.

Jason Bay
There is something about
Your forearm muscles
That
Make me hot.

I notice them when your at bat
Your elbows too.

Jason Bay
There's something about you

I call you the Silent Warrior.

Morning rituals/
Coffee, yogurt shake, water/
With a straw in each mug.

Holy rain pouring
From the large mouths of sky gods
Coating secret ground

A haiku

Exercising, LOST
to bed quite early for sex
Without skipping meals.

I've thought a lot about you,
I hate admitting that since I pretty much loathe you.
Wishing I had the strength to wipe my hands clean of you and
Not giving a shit

just like you.