Rp Verlaine lives in New York City.
He has an MFA in creative writing from City College.
He taught in New York Public schools for many years.
His first volume of poetry- Damaged by Dames
& Drinking was published in 2017 and another – Femme Fatales Movie Starlets & Rockers in 2018. A set of three e-books titled Lies From The Autobiography vol 1-3 were published from 2018 to 2020. His newest book, Imagined
Another Morning Unlike Others
There are unkind mornings you awaken with head too heavy for your hands. And prospects grim as a dead end street advertising for casuals. When life refuses to fit conform or lay in a repose you can trust violence will not assault and perhaps even beckon forward to altruism. Another morning unlike the others. When she calls to say she must see you to tell of a new romance that seemed to work until pristine train track by track it went off the rails. He was with another woman who worse, looked like her, and now she wants to to drink but not alone and who better than you. Kindness becomes listening without judgment's sharp tongue swirling Into deep holes with serpent nectar bitter and vile. So we meet,drink , and talk till spent as prayers by a roulette wheel. Until the room spins enough for us to leave. We hold the good bye kiss long enough to make it more knowing nothing will ever come of it. Another bit of kindness Our cabs leaving in different directions and the moon bright enough to lead us home to dream perhaps or just collapse.
Valuable still the near fallen star found upright in A dark stair well inquiring into a lost wannabes shared sweet poisons by pin pointed dispensed pricks to flesh. She's young/hardened yet nowhere near 2 or 3 collapsed veins like him at 30. No selfies he tells she of no last known address. At a quarter to three where both inject realism away. Him paying for hers while the limo driver checks the box scores in a distorted pause until the star walks out and she shakily says goodbye counting cash.. He heads to the show walking on clouds feeling perfect almost.
Somehow always there but never quite Ephemeral as if unreachablie in the moment present and long passed. Bubbly as champagne till she turned down the wattage of the Illusion. The sadness hidden so well hidden It was obvious.. Dead of aids from dirty needles at 28.