Tomato Soup Blues

You start with life’s worries
and add tomatoes
the color of a saxophone’s sigh
simmering in the stockpot,
sliding around
with the onions and basil
already loose from living
cheek to garlic and
low to the heat.

A pinch of this
for those still troubled;
a shake of that
for kick;
a bit of sugar
to temper the bite;
a lid to let it wail.
Then blend the edges
until textures touch
and the flavor is
layered and deep.

Best served with a crusty,
soft-hearted, bread
to soak up the left behind notes.

Cooking,
like singing,
if you let go enough,
can sometimes
shake the blues.

New York Evening

I see the moon;
the moon sees me

wondering how
it could ever be
that in this tangle of noise and hype
God finds room
for the loom of night
to weave the wails,
the horns, and dreams
with ribbons of silver,
satin, flowing streams.

Oh cradle me gently,
set your people free.

God bless the moon;
God bless me. 

Coffee by the 86^th Street Subway

Well positioned to see
out the window
onto the stage,
I saw performed the
instinctively choreographed,
self stylishly costumed
Parade of Divine Image Traveling Show.

A spectacle of color, form, and age!
The plumage and music! The
texture and flash! Accents
of grace, both sequined and subtle.

Amidst the peacocks,
giraffes, and clowns,
the ringmaster sang out,
calling all to join in
this march of creation.

Leaving my seat,
my cup, and three lines
of syllables spilled on a napkin,
I walked
through the proscenium marveling
at the evidence of being.
At the popcorn underfoot, at
the lingering smell
of living and magic.

Tap in a Glass

I’ll take peanut butter
on the run
toward public transportation,
tap in a glass
with a cube or two—
no straw or twist is needed.

The dog for me—
a diversified mutt
who smiles at passers-by
and plays with a perforated towel
as though
with the robes of kings.

My daily fibers
bear no fur—no heads,
no tails, no paws.
Cotton, linen, wool, and fleece
understate
my fashion prowess.

The glitz and shine
of my quotidian life
come from sun on a windowpane;
my omni-speaking throng
of paparazzi
is a tangle of Middle School girls.

It’s a life some want;
some seek and persue;
a life that buzzes and whirrs.
I prefer mine mellow—
with a shot of caffeine,
I’m not above having fun.

Others can have
the hype and the glamour.
I’ll offer mine up, thanks,
then gather with friends
in comfortable clothes
around a simple, fine, table and meal.

There will be light in our eyes,
will be hope in our laughter,
as we talk our way under the stars…
marveling and awe-filled together
into night into
new sung day.