The day after it was over, a pale grey sky cast its pall and dripped a slow & steady rain on Inwood & its one and all, cooling, quieting a mind trying to embrace goodbye. To Nereda the Elder Queen, her stoop on Seaman her throne who told me, “Never, never force”. The sign on her front door says “Hope”. To the Fine Fare late night saint. In his Red Sox cap, he double bags most everything: “Bue-nah Noch-ay”, born with a smile nothing’s erased. To the most dear Uncle Tom, true guardian angel walking tall. That I may one … Continue reading Inwood Ode
Sun dial shows a fortnight’s passed, yet onward spills the Gotham dream. “Land ho!” we shouted days ago and, anchored on Edenic coast, left the vessel, trekked ashore where we, gleeful, headed for the summit of which we were told of by our elders long ago that the view was long and light poured straight from yonder heaven’s skies. We reached this mountain, still with time to make our camp at paradise. We are who we are – not yet. (8/6/2017 – Inwood, Manhattan, New York) (See more Everlastin’ Spoof writings at http://www.everlastinspoof.com) Continue reading We Are Who We Are – Not Yet.
When you walk through the garden, you can hold my hand. We’ll see some devils & angels, an ugly pig and a band. Don’t gotta wait all night. Don’t gotta move. It’s come the time to share in a holy groove. Lord, the steps get steeper right at the top. We’re scribing tales of lore. I’ll have my suite on the rocks. We may be trapped in time. I don’t know what to do. Step through the fiery threshold. Share in that holy groove. All the way from New York City to Blackburn Lancashire. We don’t gotta worry, reinforcements almost … Continue reading In a Holy Groove
The following night upon twilight, circles rise in the cerulean sky. They flicker, flash, and fade before a standstill wind gathers sudden force. Our pioneering crew on deck gains the tailwind, starboard tack. We come about, full sail ahead. No land in sight, look to the stars instead to navigate our wayward way while sacred creeds and words from psalm are played. Harmonizing with the ocean’s song, our Aztec quest for common ground goes on as answers to questions we’ve known drift along. (8/1/2017 – The A Train downtown & East River Park Manhattan, New York) (See more Everlastin’ Spoof … Continue reading Starboard Tack
You climb & climb & climb atop and gain the Garden’s bird’s eye view. Looking down, confirm the rumor: Here, we straddle past & future. Below the land it shifts and shakes. A continent, once whole, then breaks. The ocean’s water separates the mass of earth to little islands of different climes & light horizons. Straits and seas of Titan rising, pushing our ship far from the shore and into the middle of the storm to uncharted waters and fathoms unformed. (Patience) (7/30/2017 – Inwood, Manhattan, New York) (See more Everlastin’ Spoof writings at http://www.everlastinspoof.com) Continue reading Uncharted Waters, Fathoms Unformed
It has long been my dream that the worlds of Prince and Phish collide. I have never been in attendance for a Fishman-crooned “Purple Rain”. I was only 11 years old when the band performed “1999” at Madison Square Garden … Continue reading Master of an Infectious Universe
The boy was laying on the lawn, just like he does each eve. Then crawling through the fresh-cut grass our lawn boy finds a key. Looks around and calls her name, his mother he can’t see. Then on the outskirts of the yard, he sees an open door. Crossing to it slowly through the dew, he sees there’s more: Beyond the lawn a mountainside, a silent bird, an empty shore. Leaving behind his well-kept yard, he enters the long grass. Disappearing from the midst, clouds dissipate to mist at last. Traveling through swells & storms & hurricanes cross-eyed, To the … Continue reading On the Outskirts of the Yard, He Sees an Open Door.
Down a dark and wayward concourse of Madison Square Garden at set break you see a red velvet curtain. The floor leading there a zigzag pattern of black and white. Coordinates appear on the inside of your arm. In your pocket you find a map, very old and always current. A man in the shadows points the direction but won’t follow you in. Several paths through which to enter. And like Lou said, “Watch out, the world’s behind you,”and it’s coming fast. You approach the orb one step at a time, and after the second it happens: Now you are, … Continue reading Now You Are, Now You Aren’t Caught in the Buffer
Here’s to some strawberry donut fun. Here’s to Madison Square Aquarium. Here’s to making new friends at your 100th show. Here’s to reconnecting with your days of old. Here’s to four guys and a single mic. Here’s to fruit for dessert each night. Here’s to constructing a quirky routine. Here’s to breaking it, nice and clean. Here’s to eleven more to go. Here’s to being thankful for just one show. Here’s to the A train at 3 AM. Here’s to doing it all over again. Here’s to the magic of the Baker’s Dozen. (7/22/2017 – Inwood, Manhattan, New York) (See … Continue reading Here’s to Madison Square Aquarium…
From a swaying palm on the outer key fell a coconut rolling to your feet with a crooked stem and a shell of green. The temple down the coast a-lights. The moon reveals the Apollonian night. A voice says, “Break it, see what’s inside.” You smash the shell on the trunk of the tree, cracking open what could not be foreseen: a hidden place with no boundary. You must leave the shell, your body behind. It’s all a part of the sacrifice: to truly live means to truly die. You drink the milk and close your eyes. (See more Everlastin’ … Continue reading A Hidden Place with No Boundary
On the wayward, you find yourself about to pull it off. Wayward. Leave your things, leave your stuff. Wayward. But when will you get there? How will you know if you haven’t been this wayward before? Just how deep does the rabbit hole go? Sail on, skipper, no sight of shore because we’re Wayward. Window seat, right on a wing. Picture moves across a screen, shapes and sounds, but what’s it mean? Just this one or many things: we’re wayward. And what if everything fell right in place? Triple bulls-eye, endless grace? The mirror illuminates your face for thirteen nights, … Continue reading Wayward/Way-Ward
It took until Monday morning as I was packing a purple and blue beach towel, a bottle of sunscreen, a Fage greek yogurt, and a book of essays into a backpack and throwing on my lime green, sweat stained Seattle Supersonics hat on the way to the Dyckman-200th Street subway station, boarding the A train downtown in the direction of Coney Island-Stillwell and sitting next to two gentlemen both with creased leather briefcases reading the New York Post for that long-dormant unbridled adolescent summer vacation mood to settle into my 29 year-old bones and breath. An hour-and-forty-five minute ride one-way is no … Continue reading 7/17 – Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York