"Orinoco Flow-Enya"

My Poetry

Incense

memories like incense lit,
linear burning ember
finite stick,
combust and change,
to ashes- to dreams

smoke -like longing-
spinning, swirling, sailing to heaven
where angels gather in bliss

like the source-
invisible,
aroma encased in incense
released by fire

Steam

Smoky screen
inside the boundary
distorting reality
outside, immense heat
blankets my body

Library Book

I sit on the shelf
collecting dust until
fingers tickle my spine
I'm waiting to share all my knowledge.
All of us lined up on the shelf
silently screaming, "Pick me, pick me"
like puppies in the pound.
Until a philosophy student pulls me out of the row.
Opens my cover to see when left this place last,
My tattoo reveals 1992.
I've been waiting to leave for years,
I hope he's worth it.
He takes me home and forgets me under a pile of
blue jeans and Tommy Hilfiger shirts,
he is no different.
I wanted to enrich his mind, instead
I am lonesome for scent of the non-circulating air
and the two books pressed up against my side.
Finally, he remembers me and picks me up off the floor
slams me on the desk
finds what he needs on my page and folds dog ears.
Turns to another page
highlights in yellow and underlines in blue-
He doesn't even read all my pages, I am lonesome
to be understood.
When he finishes the boy grabs me,
by just one cover
stuffs me in the night deposit box
and I wait once again,
hoping next time will be better.

Sestina-Memories from New York

In New York mother and I did a lot of walking from our house on 123 Street the shops on Liberty
Avenue. The streets of the Big Apple were filled with energy, people celebrated.
every occasion and nationality on street corners and in front of stores.
When mother and I walked, the dog
followed us. Father was in the two car garage working with cars, tools and grease.

Father kept silver in the big red tool box permeated with grease
for me to pilfer when the ice cream truck came to our street, all the kids and I, with my dog,
followed the jack in the box music and traded the silver marked with "liberty"
for soft serve ice cream that tasted better than from stores
and every day during the summer the little kids celebrated.

At night the big kids celebrated.
Father came in and left his boots at the kitchen door so grease
wouldn't stain the carpet again and the big kids made noise at the corner store
after it closed. Every night someone called a policeman who got out of his car and walked
around; the kids scattered seconds before. After he left they resumed their liberty.
That summer my dog

had pups. We gave our neighbors the dogs.
At my birthday parties, lots of friends gathered and celebrated
little girls were dressed in fancy dresses and boys like sailors on liberty.
Father used M30 hand cleaner to remove the grease
from his hands. I could always recognize the scent as we walked
across the street to the corner store.

I used to design my own money and give it to the nice man who owned the store.
When I went school the dog
waited for me in the school yard and then she walked
me home. On the Fourth of July the whole block gathered outside and celebrated.
Father kept sparklers in the toolbox they smelled like grease,
just like the coins marked with liberty.

Mother worked on Liberty
Avenue in Allen's Store
selling nightgowns, meanwhile father worked on the cars with grease.
One morning a dog catcher knocked on the back door and said he had my dog.
I didn't feel like celebrating
anymore. Who would accompany me to school when I walked?

Years ago we left the city with the Statue of Liberty, drove to Florida with the puppy-dog.
Mother worked in another store. In Florida where nobody celebrated
like the New Yorkers on our block. Father worked in someone else's garage and the grease
smelled different. The sun was too hot so we never walked.



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