Monthly Archives: September 2009


I rarely leave by
6 sharp. A whole other world
In motion outside.

The witching hour for
dog walkers, dear canine friends. Strutting, sniffing bark.

A man with webbed feet:
shoes for the street and surf stands
By the closing doors.

Avenue Q

puppets sing on stage
alongside visible men
and women, right there

in clear sight they stand.
human monochromatic
cast of characters.

i liked the idea.
the songs were hilarious.
the play, eh, a play.

Tuesday works

the google mindset
yes uh-huh yes without so
much as a b-breath

in between the words,
the steam escaping faster
than some of us think.

i am hesitant
bewildered, frozen.

the prospect of smart:
challenges me all at once.
Empowerment is.


me? disappointed.
the only word that comes to mind,
yes, disappointed.

a wedding should be
enjoyable for all, yet
we felt unwanted.

unattended to,
cast off to no man’s land
out of sight and mind.

in attendance with
drinks in hand, swaying, laughing
amongst ourselves. we

could have been anywhere.
and yet we were nowhere, there
one with another.

Anna Wintour

September is born
upon editorial
conception in March.

Anna Wintour: shrew
and mastermind behind Vogue
feared, revered, scorned.

Fashion stops at will
on her command; loved ones will
admit they’re amused

by the high priestess’
choice of profession, and if
RJ Cutler’s show

offers anything, it’s
a glimpse inside the heart,
not all ice and stone.

And Grace Coddington?
who wouldn’t want to be stylized
by her golden eye?

satin, silk, wool crepe
dolman sleeve, tuxedo pants
black is the new black.

genuine divas
revealed by the camera lens:
Mario, Jean Paul

even Yves’ no saint.
funny how men in fashion
are not men at all.

Anna is the color
on the designer palette,
the satin ribbon

a most precious gift.
I cannot quite imagine
Vogue without the Queen.


“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a giant insect.” – Kafka

ironic, that I choose a topic to ponder
and upon late evening find myself
sitting opposite its train of thought placard on the subway.
bemusing and at times startling how the universe can align and kick itself back to you, verifying on some level that there are no coincidences.

Personal energy

a few years ago
kundalini became
part of my yoga

practice. Dages Keats
led us through a series of
meditations and

kriyas. Together
with the kundalini breath, mantras, mudras, bandhs

and asanas, one
strives to unwind their inner
connection toward

Higher consciousness.
Unlike traditional forms
of yoga, this branch

focuses on the
liquid energy
flowing through our veins.

There is no downward,
upward stance just conscious breathing.
In, out; in, out. In.