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poetry from the mind of insanity


The Light


fiddy cent… anybuddy got fiddy cent?”

the man smiled as he made his request of

the midmorning weekend walkers,

his teeth almost glowing white

against the charcoal of his skin.

he sat on an overturned plastic bucket

in front of the overpriced supermarket,

his baritone voice rumbled through the street

like the over blown reed of a saxophone.

he bore the aura of peace –

not that peace which the world cannot give,

but the peace of one who knows his place in the world

and has accepted it.


The Dark


i am spiraling shadow.

my insubstantial spirit,

dark as my sin,

lives its half-life

restless amidst unending night.

the brightness of

so blue day is an affront:

every beam of sunlight

is a finger of accusation

reminding me of the evil

inherent in my life’s choices.

the beautiful people

are my judge and my jury.

riding past the city bone yard,

looking longingly at the necropolis,

i envy the blessed, happy dead –

oh sweet mother earth, would that i might

already return my rented clay to you;

relinquish my ransomed moisture

to the sea and the sky.


A Thousand Sunrises


however dark the night of all my days,

each day is filled with a thousand little sunrises:

a one legged pigeon that finds a morsel of food

on a filthy city street, sipping oil stained water,

and goes on living yet one more precious day.

a pregnant woman pushing a tandem stroller,

                   a look of deep contentment as she speaks with her husband

over the phone,

the laughter of children coming home from school,

      the way my lady walks when she is walking that special way,

an elderly couple walking hand in hand

as in love as if they were high school sweethearts

contemplating bases…


a thousand little sunrises a day

and in those little moments

my darkness goes

and i still want to breathe the air.




58th st

6. October, 2007