#526. transit

January 6, 2012

the wind turns the river dark
holding hands on the graceful bridge
stone you fly and bring our shores together
vigilant brooklyn heights manhattan shines beside thee

you and i ride
hold our bags
a pearl
around on
the winter
subway floor

#487. splashes

November 27, 2011

are not always
the color of water
and leaves sometimes lead
round stones and sharp 
rocks flowing over this dream
bridge sweet black and grey 
seasons than this
autumn waiting snow
drifts ice thickening deep
muffles the rivers sweet 

#432. east river

November 14, 2010

o river i depend on 
your light grey sparkles green 
water running high
under the arched stone bridge
to power my glad 
heart but you keep your depths   
my secret search

#377. no place like it (ldw4

September 6, 2010

the crowds
and kids are gone home
the rivers run singing quietly
the city’s spirits rattle
echo down worn hot
cobblestone mazes
and cool rooms
call me to my
sweet bed
and you

i adore hearing
the strange music
of echoing thoughts
whistling through iron
cables towers wooden
planks of the promenade
the bridge hums with power
transmitting from there to here
across the wide and deep water
between my ideas and my verses

closing my eyes
i see old walt whitman
crossing below knowing
i await him across real time
i begin to truly hear the endless

#355. atlas unlimited

August 15, 2010

vast map
my dreams
a pin dropped
life truly pointed
in a direction calling
me to the expressions
I need to do more than
survive in the woven strings

the daily real
is as unlimited as anything else
in the Endless

vast map
calls dreams
drops sharp pins
pointing life’s true
directions calling me
to the many expressions
i need to weave and to survive
more than the strings that are mine

#354. saturn night

August 14, 2010

the nail
bridge high
sharing it all
cool fulton evening
air fun
when the now
is Now
string of lights
stumbling home and to bed with you

the corner
of this reality
over a stone steel
bridge half shrouded
in the rising east river mist
a cool song catches a tiny
breeze unhindered by
all the night noise
or drifting pot

suddenly the city shines
and my headache dissolves

#352. sisyphus

August 12, 2010

too fleeting joy
the stone rolls back
down the hill
i run
but a slave
with only good death
to save me

the ripples
move ever further
from the cast stone

the ripples
intersect others
from other pebbles thrown

the ripples
spread wide embraces
the knower now known

the ripples
define the work
and brings the poet home

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