Staring Out a Window

Plagued this week. Feeling the S-waves

from the accident, supposedly. A sneeze

shook my body, a pain in

the chest has resonated since. There is fear

to sneeze. And therefore.

There is a great inability

to sit still, to sit and read and catch

up with the digital world, because

it’s not in front of me. And this is

choice, it would

have to be determined. My nerves

itch, which allow my limbs to shake

unsteadily, which generates the body

tremor leading to my fin



to break the words apart. Coffee table

gets the worst of it, the secondhand smoke

from the tremor; the rubber soul smoke

escaping  the pressure from shifting feet

irritate the furnishing. The coffee mug

dances drunkenly — due

dismay — dauntingly,

more java needed to be sipped and slurr



ped down the pipe and into the blood-

stream and to the rest of the body.

Heart is cracking its knuckles,

brain rolls its eyes.

Outside is disguised poorly

pale blue, a terrible make-

up work, needing more of

a makeover; and add

a touch of grey.




My recent post at Syracuse New Times.  Here’s another found coffee ring. Since this weekend in Central New York was a quiet and wet one, I banked off of a picture that was taken on the way to New York City and Brooklyn this past December. Without further ado: About a Stranger


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