Frank O'Hara

How did you negotiate
strange new avenues
forbidden for use
by those trusted to live
an incorruptible youth?

Did dim beacons blink
codes behind twisted trees,
thick shrubbery?
Did aged-faced uncles
whisper invitations
through speak-easy doors,
painted green to camouflage,
blend in,
make it seem so?

Were these the saints,
who, listening to your discourse,
set you on a course,
by which you groped,
instinctual, by sun and stars,
toward unexplored worlds -
love, lust, and hope?

Or maybe you just knew
as you chuckled away convention
ensconced in Manhattan shadows
knowing life is a poem
of one's creation
neither completely dark
nor obscenely light.

One morning at work

I'm left in a low orbit
circling my life, a planet
so far away,
it escapes me.

Two days in Albuquerque (Found Poem - Creem Magazine)

And the walls are beginning to close in.

Still waiting for Jaffee to find out

if Roeg will talk to us.

Supposed to meet us in the bar at 9

last night to give us an answer

but he never showed.

Returning to the room at 11:30

we spent half the night trying to call him,

but apparently he was amorizing

in someone else's suite.

Impact cut to: medium shot of the door bursting open

and John rushing in.

"He's out there, I just saw him!"

"Let's go."

Cut to: tracking shot.

A figure in green jumpsuit walks down the dim corridor.

As he passes the glass doors leading outside,

a flood of evening light illuminates him.

The shock of red hair alone is enough to identify him as

David Bowie. His shoulders rock from side to side

and he has the springy step of one endowed with

an overabundance of energy, even though

he has just completed

a full day's shooting

in 90 degree heat.

Stopping in front of a room, he knocks

but gets no response.

As he turns to leave,

he meets the reporters who have trailed him

here and are ready to pounce

like diamond dogs.

My Life (at the moment)

Rejection seldom
gets to me.
Once, it did, but
that was then.
I'm a lion after
missing the kill,
left in the dust,
throat on fire,
sucking wind,
no regrets,
no remorse.
Hunger drives me on -
my life, my curse.
Staring off
into the distance,
death will come
one day.