Coffee is here, we'll make it, with cups,
recycling thinking alone, with neighbors new
who we'll never drink with until leaving -
see how they enjoyed it, dark, mellow,
caramel, with steam, steam screams across
the plane, bouncing clever customer you
are not?

Will you choose among millions of flowers,
petals, caffeinated here, to smell chocolate
morsels, yet fragrant to meditating hordes,
they come only to sit, paying their ticket,
entrance fee, liquid currency, slightly refined
are they to notice how we design life?

Never wasting grounds, we'll tray to save
pastries only for the deserving of city lights,
the sun leaves, shades, reverses course, returns
to lower shades, actual shades to wear so to
see swirls of milk and paper and art formed
for us to sit and watch the deer pass by.

© 2019 Larry Ingram

King James was here when I last thought it
to be a verse, centuries old, yet living among
the closely devoted, to England of old, yet
preaching anew, she studies him, his art of
language, of giant reference, it makes solid
prose of terse discussion.

Now we see a transliterated few with subscribe
to this breach, this shaft of light among ancient
buildings, of London, of Picadilly, of squares
when preachers took, lit upon hearts, paid with
blood to hold, to print this volume, and we will
sit, reeling of of the crime.

Freely we read, now lately, but spoiled with 
digitized minds, of God who knew a new Spirit,
but old to the Kind, who gave ascent to scribes,
write, write, of Hebrew, Greek to us who know
this version, never to travel in dungeons where
tried they to breathe Spirit to printed page.

© 2019 Larry Ingram

Starry snow you light a silver globe
to see the way clear to crepes of flight,
laughing across the night, we see you
now across another table, to breath into
this crevice of the last curb.

Painting the night with flakes, you steer
across never landing on us, to breath air
with nigh a crystal, candles glow to us
in our mind, with yellow guards in place,
melting thus in this light, of blood, of moon.

See the false, shrinking bank, see the snow
now gone, see the rain at night, bowed heads
reading for wind, for dirt mired in banks,
wrapped about with umbrellas, dark, stately,
circumscribing a good landing for our eyes.

© 20189 Larry Ingram

Sure. No problem. When the time comes
and time ticks away, we'll do it when the
time languishes, and divorces mean that our
lives are lost to courts and lawyers and money -
spent on candy that is here one day, and gone.

Then the sun comes up, I see the dawn, another
trickle of time that says we can do this now,
with coffee and a drop of cream, sweetener that,
spelled correctly, will liven your day, until it is
nearly noon.

Another cloud, another time for dark clouds,
for foggy, fog that will make us all draw and 
stand and stare at the train to take us away from
here, to who knows where. We'll tell you,
but don't fall asleep or we'll leave behind,
and there might not be a next time.
​
​ © 2018 Larry Ingram

Lightening becomes me when I decide to
​ decipher the next clue, and nondescript phrase
from my best friend who stages an event that
is tragically a no go from the get go.

And to tragedy, another coming event will take
me closer to inside his mind, another gateway
to see him driving away, a chance that was then-
now it's gone, resilient, but not until, or at last,
when I was at an age when I cared.

Not now I see that there are decisions to make,
or break the next scene that become me, when I see
that lives are at stake, and i see again, that he does
not really care, but to boast of a trivial game won -
to see that this decision was not won or lost this time.

​​​ © 2018 Larry Ingram

If we could make it clear to the walk,
make it corner and curb on it's own,
make it a nicely formed combat to 
miss nothing, weeds and all to eliminate
greed, greedy edges spoken well of,
spoken like a true walk, green though
it wants to be, to meander through.

Posts, borders at will softly make all
the other ways look, look impenetrably,
impassably, without all guards down,
without a handshake to seal anything,
but it actually, really was all the right
protocol, protecting us all from virus,
wicked in our eyes, right by all others.

Then we'll never go that way, the drive,
the car stays, drives, all by itself it tells,
it wants to make do, expressly, impressions,
tired though they mock, as though reconciled
to all, to the very next day, how we embrace,
seen clearly, seen last of all, we are known
as if ever we will see an unforgiven soul.

​ © 2016 Larry Ingram

What do we do with this darkness,
wanting to forgive but angry at the
unspoken, the tourniquet of unspent
favors, unfavored by God in this moment -
striking stones, snakes coil at that
thought of the meanness of the moment
when we will strike.

But I didn't do it then.
I missed out on the opportunity of a life
of gall, spreading out among all of the
rest of the star-gazers who will likely
look past us all; it will take another trial
before we can see clear, wipe the glass,
the wind that shields us from our feelings.

It's all I can do to start here and now.
A classic approach to others that will now
be molded into the past, into future
dates, schedules locked onto whatever we
can be last at baking in sun scalded items
of our minds, we mind this talk here.
It's only so we can reconcile accounts.

 © 2016 Larry Ingram

We'll look at this next,
the trapist conjuring a battle,
full of flavor and black paint to
cover other foibles, freshly minted
to contrast with a car, careening
beside what ails truthfulness,
truly a depressing anger,
unexpressed.

If we, I can decide what, will it matter
not the trip to the back of the moon,
sunlit, but canvassing a deranged look -
of trials, of skipping across craters,
moons battle across things unsaid,
memories lost, hugs not felt -
an apology wasted on sleep, sleepless
we wait for anger to fill a glass.

What will it take to allow momentum
to subside on this mountain of feelings,
this trial that we will dare to transgress,
together, at last. But darkness, anger
takes its spot on the planet adjacent to 
this curriculum, unsaid, unspoken at
last, when we will never see I'm sorry
or revel in a rocks and crags.

​ © 2016 Larry Ingram

 If you'll just step aside the rest
of us will vote, and soon the splay
of candidates take their places,
heated chairs, seats by far show 
we can take this race, this ballot
announced by letter, by force
or else we'll know you by name,
and we'll take it from here.

No electioneering, no staring down
possible opponents off a bus ride
or even car full of those casting
their nets across the vast plain or
daring them to be known -
know that the platform often extends
to where we've never been -
but naturally we don't know
what we'll do this that.

As though we didn't have an answer,
the crickets tell us to be still so they
can take over about ten or 15 seconds
of air time that was paid for by many
of the best in consulting fees,
ready to banish ads important to salt
and fat intake - dinners respendant with
effort, as though the speech were
written by the poet laureate himself.

 © 2016 Larry Ingram

 She will donn the black,
bending at the narrow breach of
froth, trying to make peace with
all the night and into more of 
the moon, shaded by drenching
streetlights, beyond the grasp of
the level, full of beer for all,
for just the one, staring at chalk,
percentage of the many looking
back at Sonia.

Next down the block, the wooden
bar talks to her, shoulders a smile
drawn before the stillness of a simple
shirt, worn for a customary look
into the embrace of dreams,
of fog blending into this one chance
to remember -
weird how it dances before her breath -
all together Sonia knows, remembers
the story, resting with her in a shadow.

What she knows, menus and flavors
of the dance floor, Bohemia, Backstreet,
boys she knew, boys she knows,
in synch with German descent,
far from the bar on the corner,
street lights shine as the curb appeal
knows no bounds, but nicely stays
wet for gardens, brews finished for
a full moon, unguarded, undressed,
she follows as night covers her,
dreams until dawn.

 © 2016 Larry Ingram