Absolute Beginner's Yoga Course

I will be teaching an Absolute Beginner's course at Yoga People in Brooklyn Heights beginning this

Saturday, June 7th through the 28th.
10:00 - 11:15 a.m.
157 Remsen St., 2nd Fl
Brooklyn Heights 11201

So it's a total of 4 classes. Since space is limited, it's $85 for early registration $90 day of.

Call 718 522 3113 to register.

*This course is not only good as an introduction for those who are new to yoga, but also is beneficial for the more practiced persons that would like to revisit the fundamentals.

Arsonist's Remorse

I know what breaks a Greek plate
And the intent of a ceramic artist
The uncertainty of a kiln and the responsibility of variables
Within accidents going places to happen and the ones
We store in jars to preserve an occasion to spill and break and slip
Like the coaxing sparkle of a drying marble floor

As masters of circumstance
We never test the fire
Clip yellow-leafed plants
Cradled legs in hands examining
Dead the skin mixes with sand.

The intellect grows a peach
A bit brain and dripping sweet
A chin mimicking the edge of what a human can face
A volcanic inversion of ash before lava or blood before basalt

We suspend our bodies in burlap decisions
And dangle ripe in the trees burning to bust our guts open
For becoming spectral activity and savorily spent

I could have left a couple chipped dishes
Or a few finger dents in the frosting
Or one yellowing plant
But at the pavers’ discretion
We let the jackhammers in without the courtesy of cones
The decibel level blasts fractions of a tameless terrain

I know the remorse of an arsonist
And the quiet after the crackle
The twisted fate of a toaster taken up in steely flames
I know the accident of throwing unextinguishable matches
Of lovers and time and accidents
Like tricky birthday candles jinxing a wish

no pants nor memory

I was running down the hall with no underwear
someone stole all my money while I was away
on the lawn learning backbends
from an androgynous man in combat boots
he taught me all wrong

I returned to find my identity gone
and everyone I had known was fading
every marking half erased—the writing illegible
the house goes on without me as I press hand prints
into a sinking wet carpet
under overgrown grass

My teenage suitcase awaits departure
first I grip the handle
then releasing each finger
it falls as I count to eight

The only thing that’s failed me
is my memory
and I can forgive myself for that

Salute to burning

When sirens part the gasoline trees
Salute to burning

Be selfish with your breath & thirst
For pigeon-like companionship

Observing silent the secret
weapons holstered by our nametag-disease.
Hello motherhood & detention.
How are you crystal man & married eyes?

Your igloo box and plastic spork bags will be lonely someday
no volunteer to rescue you. No regret is patterned
fabric and other keys defy our skeletal ways.

It’s the symmetry of this monetary scale and street Dobroe utro Otkuda tys that light and utter the gum mosaic pink and green unbreakable dead cattle feet and sequin eyelashes all elements of a proper burial

Where contentment in placid stone and sand bottom ebbed by storm and soot.
Ripple asymmetrical
catch and release the exoskeletal film
on a lake the patina of our charge and circuitry
we concur our desire to fly finally, but shun the sacrifice
of wind and tail obsessing a skin we can’t quilt together
our stitch is magnetic
unlink and recollect what we spread on our photograph rooms
what we store in our castle buckets and light tables
when we all inhibit
shadows

Who can be as mangled on a parkbench or a building ledge—
constructions of sandstone stacked in time
compress the stillness of pre-elementary sight.

Why we fight and chew our words
Expel & askew
Fall apart ceiling and open the floor
we should make a brick house while fastening the cellar doors the shingles the slats the foliage of owls feathering the A-frame
no wing and no chimney can balance this view

What I conclude about your edges is nothing new
only I coax old by living it through
no need for the surface gifts reflected off prescriptive lenses
return all that is given to a thirsty pigeon.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging

Looking at what I loathe
Sometimes allows me to admire
The painful cracks in wood, concrete and clay
windowsills

I see that truth is what I holograph
A bead in the kaleidoscope imprinting on skull

.Tailless
Focus

Spindly
Fibrous

Rooted
Emoted

Bone—
the only physicality left
Styrofoam or PVC piping

Earthen artillery
Armature of jewelry

Behind the glass and the caulking
Is a hollow admiring
A steady gaze
.

something pedantic

you left loose change and melting wax in glass casing circling a warmth that stains this room full of air

nothing apologetic
growing up

someone articulates pedantic by naming something pedantic

a good lesson is right now
learning what it is through different fingers and animal tusks

none of my clothing shall have pockets in the future and my organs shall have not consciousness

coins on the floor and a banana breathes through it’s soft skin
over-sweetened age shifts the room you left loose

consciousness waxes nothing full of air
fingers articulate animal clothing

naming pocket change
coining the future

now growing apologetic for nothing