The Stafieri

my blue painting

that came to me

so long ago

I don’t know the giftee


or the story

how this came to them

this blur in blue

of a side on

woman looking


& that

so many people

see nothing

no figure

just blue

Industrial Shaman 8

it wasn’t the occasional

waft of sage

drifting out of the windows doors

or the stranger noises

occurring within

but that sometimes my clients

my employers employees

would leave the job

he would weigh heavy

I pay you to get ‘em

back to work

increase productivity

help them to fit into teams

not to get ‘em fit to go

where I thought it prudent

to not state the obvious

my role was to help them

get their heads straight

find some peace in the world

& if that meant leaving

the daily grind in this place

that was a good result

I tried sorting his reasoning

well y’know if they decide to go

that’s one employee less

you need worry about

because more than likely

they were going to leave anyway

he needed sage I felt

the sun as always shifts shadows

put it down

there are the days

sitting here

pain behind the eyes

trying to write the line

put it all down

while birds sing outside

the sun as always

shifts shadows

& nothing makes sense

like a kid puzzling a word

how did table

get to be called table?

shapes move at my shoulder

asking me to listen please

they got things to release

resolve unfinished business

can I pass the word?

make the connections

they failed to do

wants to know

wants a post mortem

while my mind

is already skipping

down the road

not that it’s enough

to be hurting

at the letting go

they want reasons

wants to know

the ins n outs

& I tell her

if you’d been listening

all along

you’d know the why

but that’s not enough

she wants to know


& a body gets tired

of handing out hurts

but she’s pushing pushing

like she can’t believe

so I close the door quietly

return to me



going vegan

listening to music loud

partying through the week

were just phases

I was going through

but being broke

was something

she felt enough about

to despise

my place in life

for now

forever to be

I could not hold on to her

her feeling her better chances

lay elsewhere

no matter how much I spoke

I’m not poor forever love

today I’m just broke

better days will come

said to the empty air

which was inventive if unkind

for just a moment

we hit the dance floor

a little patch of shiny space

in the middle of the place

started throwing shapes

smiling at her

as the drink took hold

& for just a moment

I thought I could be

one of those guys

hit by the spotlight

showing off my moves

all lissom & grace

but no

she had a frown on

we headed back to sit

ordered more drinks

as she opened old wounds

where’d you get those moves

some old teen movie

surfer beach bum scenes back in ’66?

which was inventive if unkind

now she wonders out loud

why I don’t take her dancing

no more

she forgets her scenes

but not mine somehow

in your best interests

nice people

destroy everything

in your best interests

of course



cleaning up the streets

to lose the granny

mom & pop shops

curio places

to buy strange threads


flick knives beads

odd plumbing devices

bringing in the chains

all sweet serene clean brands

logos to the fore

sweeping away


in the name of gentrification


would come see me


between the men she lived with


tried to get to marry

& I was once a candidate

but I wouldn’t commit

not through badness or malice


more that she could not commit


being a watcher observer

passive in life’s sketches

she could not walk along with me

where I wanted passion

involvement intensity

she had distance

some refusal to go all the way

be in the moment

but she had this thing she did

there in the bedroom

made me open the door

let her in everytime