My favorite New York
pastime is sobbing
You do it on the way
like everything else
Like everything else,
nobody double-takes
Small relief to be translucent
w/o repercussion
Slacken responsibility
for The State of Things
Headphones so I can't say
what it sounds like
Styrofoam container
between knees
29 soon & as this year,
the year before, going back
to when I thought it would
kick in, but no–
I'll not have learned how
to still myself
Almost never take home
strangers now
In place of their predictable
& idyllic demands, I wonder
how many more Real Loves
I'll cycle thru
Or as Tom Waits put it, who you
wanna go in the woods with
Even when I get off, the shudder
feels hostile
Can't make the erotic subtle
or write one graceful poem
Inner monologue dubbed
by fortune cookies
It may be time to explore new ways
of regaining balance
Aberrant December lets us feel okay
longer, but not without guilt
Today felt too fragile for strategizing
&/or engagement &/or collaboration
&/or proving my value to “our” stakeholders
So called out, wore leggings that made
my a** look, excuse me, pretty f**ing great
& paid off some but not all my bills
& basked in the unnatural warmth
of our dying planet
It felt, excuse me,
pretty f**ing great
But I've just circled back
to mama's years-old advice–
You can't sit on two chairs
comfortably at once
So let's cry about it
even though this is no time
for consolidating the tattered
concept of monogamy
Glittery teardrop settled
atop my blinchiki
Lonesome traveler
rattling w/ the Q
As it shoots toward
skyline, river-glint,
The deepspace
of what else