The Colossus of Helios

stood astride 

the harbor of Rhodes

defiant and vigilant

forged from the forgotten 

weapons of Demetrius

seventh wonder

of the world 

for but fifty

four short years

glorious reflection 

of the spinning sun

before snapping 

at the knees amidst 

a quake of the earth

then lay defeated 

in the dust

for nearly a

millennia more

until dismantled

piece by piece 

carted away 

by 900 camel

while we continue 

to dismantle the ghost 

of the figure 

partially submerged 

in brine of time

year by year

piece by piece

come grab 

your hammer

Dag Gadol

fluttering and shallow exhalations

of thinly hammered bronze drown

in the salt slush brine fading silver 

until resaturated still pale yet 

oxygenating aquamarine diamond 

spray crystalized in spectrum and 

cries on the wind soft sighs in the 

sunset all of this pounded and 

pulverized then repurposed broken 

mosaic mirror snapped and rippled 

rolling and rolled up swallowed whole 

gloaming rolled deeper and unbreathable 

phrases recycled rejected but presented 

neatly to multiple rows of replacement 

critics converter belted and freeze 

dried hastily prepared a shaded corridor 

cast vermillion in the lapping peals of the 

alarm bell hidden and frozen creased 

and crinkled in the salt breeze waving 

crimped a coke sign faded to almost 

offwhite cracked and discarded with 

cries bobbing squeals rising salt and 

sand down my collar abrasion tumbled 

and forgotten again tumbled and 

chuckled up with the lockjaw news 

liminal corners shadowed and shaded

and taped violet light flailing flapping 

in the salt waves erecting tents in the

belly of the beast neighborhooded yet 

nailing down stakes and painting fences 

submerged in ink the dark distilled into

printable form with gloved appendages

antiseptic molestation with consent and 

slashing sabres at waves muffled with 

laughter certain quarters indiginous crabs 

nestled in eel grass beds waterbottomed

and well bred waving viciously in the 

viscous waves crackbacked carapace 

capacities for territorial greatness mocked 

slandered and libelled the rolling courts 

overruled by sodiumwet winds sharpened 

and sliced and squeezed the delicate 

flavor and slight sweet taste cracking and 

mashing broken furniture bandaged 

gauzed taped netted and perfumed until 

displayed tree trimmed sea weeded 

replanted with dank dark earth newsstand 

waves which have rolled out with the tide

crescendo genuflects and judges appetites 

tiptoed yet trampled beneath the extended 

rows of shoulders braced for impact yet 

jostled by laughter and easily offended 

plunged beneath weighted down and 

finally expanded in all directions confetti riptide 

until belly up the victim acquiesces fatigue 

victorious as always rolled out squeezed for 

moisture dribbled pressed and bled out in bed

2:53am

and dreaming comes the mercury cab

past eggshell tenements and blackhole lots

the weeping alley sweats all the colors

sharpened and glistening in the night

somewhere a saxophone plays “Générique”

broken by nervous laughter rising to a pitch

cat growl turning cab flash

glass crunching beneath

the throbbing beat of a neon sign

intermittently fries the crumbling brick

as a voice cries out “let’s grab a corn dog”

the red goodbye light winks out as

a pearlescent caddy turns the corner

gold tooth fading out in the night light

The Final Lethal Dance

in the dust 

for Manolete 

his suerte de 

matar second 

to none was in 

hot August of 

1947 with bull 

number five

Islero:

built like a 

leather Sherman tank

Islero:

vaseline drooling 

from his jaws

Islero:

hooves widely set in 

fury and fire

Islero:

ready to tango

False Face

as the weather grows cold wet and dark

and leaves begin to yellow and die

i am often haunted by a story

my father once told me

about a school dance he was

forced to attend a 

Halloween

dance

it’s difficult to picture my father in a costume 

even when young and i don’t recall

anymore what costume

he desired

but what he got was a clown 

mask or false face as he 

described it

to me

he refused this clown false face

but the family insisted and

forced him out into

the night

rather than attend that dance wearing

that clown false face he sat

in a forest alone and

waited 

as the cold creeps in and my father and i grow older

i too often picture him sitting alone in those

woods surrounded by darkness

and yellowet leaves

in the image in my mind he always sits

on a damp and crumbling log

wearing that clown

false face

a grotesque 1950s creation dark empty eyes staring 

the smile drooping with weight the strong 

reek of rubber filling my nostrils 

as we sit and 

wait

we sit together because i have

spent most of my

life hiding

too

Over the Water

the post midnight air thick with 

critter calls humidity and humiliation

the Pond Mills dock that rickety

collection of baby teeth boards

barely missing kissing the softly

lapping waves even in that 

blackness with only the barest 

shard of the moon cascading

along the breeze your brow

shone gold like the afternoon

sun a brazier of passion which

glowed across our features in

the night visible and vibrant

from vast distances you burned

while we reflected fading in puffs

of steam like the last gasps of

a fish flapping impotently on

the dock your words rippled

across the pond surface leaving

naked vacuum in their wake

trilling frogs and longslept cicadas

slowly filled the hollow night