The Magician

The Magician

The house lights flash once at two minutes to eight.
With bated breath, we all restlessly await
a dazzling exploitation of human habit:
the appearance of the wand and the rabbit.

Across strangers minds there builds a unity.
On edge of our seats we anticipate
commencing another opportunity
to witness practice and talent culminate

In exhibitions of ever unseen skills
the mechanics of which we are loathe to grasp
yet so content are we to simply fulfill
our part of the bargain: smile, applaud and laugh.

The attention of all, spellbound by one man,
a crowd who came with no desire to learn
and yet, watching him they grow to understand
that a gasp is a thing that one must earn.

To us it's so seductively confusing
as he remains, observantly amusing.
Witnessing him command the mysterious,
we realize its the jester who's the genius.

National Poetry Day

In celebration of National Poetry Day and Throwback Thursday, here's a bit of a poem I wrote about 15 years ago.  Enjoy, my friends.  

Where is my mind?

In a carrion fertilized field, rubbing at the spot on my hand,

Doing clandestine reconnaissance, somewhere in southern Thailand.

On the monorail at the Bronx zoo,

Wondering what else your hands can do.

It's wrapped around your mouth; finding us the perfect house,

Wandering through forgotten dreams silenced by the South.

It's writing a three part saga, guess who I made the hero?

It's bending scent, folding time to begin again at zero.

It's fighting numbness, compliance and conformity,

Yet seeking your acceptance, how’s that for irony?

Where is my mind?

It's off looking for company, it's tracing the lines of a body,

Sensuously blended angles and curves; its living trigonometry.

Between my hands where I want your face

Or wherever I left my toothpaste

Maybe behind the dryer, with all my missing socks

Or meeting one of you in the bar around the block.

It's in Tahiti on one of those natural water slides,

Taking back a rejected kiss that I never should have tried.

It's arguing with my heart about letting you in

And busy rewriting the definition of sin.

Where is my mind? 

 Where hasn’t it been?