~Clocks~

I seldom end up where I wanted to go, but almost always end up where u need to be - Douglas Adams

Everyone

Everything is silent

The hands of the clock

The crows of our cocks

Our heartbeats

ticking

and stopping

together

in the dim

ill-fitting shadows

Our thoughts

except the

empty cymbals,

that still makes

the loudest noise

in the silence

a slow

terrible and bittersweet

dream

you have to stop and watch

on the busy street

everyone pushing

and pulling

in one wave of motion

without even realizing it

try to be

a rainbow

in someone else’s

cloud

a mirror of

good and bads

for one day

open the door

don’t play what’s there, like Charlie Parker said

play what’s not there

~Plums~

~Plums~

This Is Just to Say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

~Jack Keroac

a old man with gray hair

and gaunt face

reminded me of my father today

clutching a plastic bag

with one peach

and one peachpit

laying in the bag

lonely

beside it

bending into the wind

in the pale sunshine

of the Chinese fruit market

it reminded me of the poem

my day would always tell his kids

the Jack Keroac poem

about the forgotten plums

in the icebox

and how you read it to us

voice low

and melodic

like something warm

and rolling

and I smiled

now,

whenever I bite into

a plum

the dark

orb

the mosaic of purple

the cool bitterness

that plays on my tongue

I think of you

hold  every memory

as you go

were just sheets

to the wind

blowing aimlessly

life is just a hurricane

you have to go through

the end is the beginning

nothing behind you

everything ahead of you

I am new

not old

in youth,

the heart is never

alone

it’s just

the blue shadows

and melodies

of no relief

no one is to blame

the aimless

winds

they blow

swift

stolen coin of happiness

in a paper coffee cup