#485. ten

November 25, 2011

in the cycling
of days years grow
we that is us becomes 
momentum and the moment
as well as golden promises that shine
in a bright glimmering line between our eyes 
that was a corner we turned together before we knew
we could ever know that we could ever sing our strings together

the ancient
timeless whirlpool
tossing me
an old coca cola can
in an empty
six train car between canal
and spring
before summer and fall leads to winter

#371. more sun

August 31, 2010

pale day
in the hot sun
its the way living
people fade that bring
out the ancient forgotten
restless shades of gone new york

laying awake
with my life
ready to go

with the shades
of new york
flickering

black and white
almost
overwhelming

the traffic
and people
but all silent

as time
is terrible
and sweet

as the sharing
of words
often is

#9/11. Ghosts Of New York

September 12, 2009

Ghosts Of New York

In the rain mists
Not just
Today
But tomorrow
And all those yesterdays.

Native mannahatta
Disappear sold up the Hudson
For a legend and beads.

Revolution and battles
Spirit ships with masts like
A movable forest.

Riots of
Dead irish africans and natives
Artifacts of five points
Pulverized
Give a sharp taste
To the air.

Masses refreshed
Thru labor
Burnt triangle brand
Wispy united girls
Tunnel rats.

Uncountable
those uniformed
War children
Still walk the cobbles
And asphalt
Although their hometowns
Never saw them again.

And the victims and their
Rescuers gather in the null
Spaces
Every day as the tourists gawk
The vendors hawk
And their family’s
Mourn.

In the rain mists
Not just
Today
But tomorrow
And all those yesterdays.

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