IN MY ORANGE KAYAK
Our moving eyes for salmon
in my orange kayak
a fisher stops to look
at the when the academic year
is stopped for vacation
we flee from our passions
for love, art, words,
wishing to glide out early
with psalms on my laptop
over the motionless shore
on the Atlantic ocean waters
to catch up to our poetry
and complimentary love life
with a fearless conscience
embracing an opening wave
by a back up school
of salmon in a frenzy
then motionless
in an A.M. silence
of too much cool memory
already tasting the filet
fried and cooked
along the sea.
PLAYING HAMLET
To locate my part
of Hamlet
along the bare stage
in a windowless studio
to find my lines
standing in a circle
motionless helplessness
murmuring in gestures
before we go on
with nuance
just to have a chance
to take a Thespian part
in summer stock
to survive two seasons.
FIRST BEATS
We were sixteen
when met our first Beats
during a sax riff
when time came to a stop
and we were translated
to passing glances
on a free wielding
rush of our words
by keeping at our gig
at the funky lamp burning
at a floor dancing verse
our blushing flames going
out in a changing season
by a college room fireplace
of a strong voice aiming at
swaying your cool
flirting audience
suddenly inescapable silence
as if to say to my ex
sitting in the box seat
her poisonous letter
meant to burn me up
is in the ashes.
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