The 7th Avenue Historic District

Up and down the street,

Committing daily errands,
Jogging, biking, joking,
My proximate gerunds.

The neighbors. They look busy.
So much ado to do.
I sit out front and read
Of romance and virtù.

But stay when I am placed.
I do not jog or joke.
Deflecting passion's flame,
I do not burn. I smoke.

Of that they disapprove,
Although they never say so.
They move along. I sit,
Half like them, and I stay so.

Shangri-La

If you’ve observed the IT ants prepare

Their toolkits, then it’s time to take a hike.

The summits where the spectacled bear holds forth

On Can’t & Kant, where wild bees value most

Black honey, jelly royals, and labor laws,

They’re good. Caves for a cloister, that might work;

But there, above the clouds, there are no gods,

No nymphs whose every kiss is percocet.

You’re on your own. The bear says, If you can,

You must. (He speaks in German, but you get

His drift. Where there are flowers, we must fail.)

His spirit leaves no footprints in the stream.