if I were sitting by the side of a small pool the longer I sat there the more I would know.
the pier at Coney Island, Stillwell avenue. I ate an entire plastic carton of raspberries and watched a man catch a sting ray unhook it and throw it back in
(when we aren’t birds) If somebody the world should have hardened Remain(ed) soft for so long as if to melt Into hard wood floors Red, red Virginia clay Grey, brittle cement They would have won The game of taking taking taking And never breaking
people soak up sadness when they spend time together the way trees take CO2 out of the atmosphere and return oxygen
From inside the bus I can see through the window: the laborious process by which the young bus driver helps the elderly woman get an arm through a camel colored coat Her right: it is a clumsy but surprisingly robust wing that emerges – missing the hole for an arm repeatedly but eventually becomingContinue reading “Poems from New York #9 (Newark, NJ)”
finding grapefruit gems in the bowels of my hard drive… One morning in Maine I discovered that grapefruit Can be eaten With brown sugar This was in the same town in Maine where I discovered that grown men whistle at 12 year old girls Yesterday I told myself to claim the fact thatContinue reading “Poems from New York #8”
Go Progeny Dance! W&L Repertory Dance Company & Progeny Dance http://www.wlu.edu/lenfest-center/calendar/progeny-dance Come see us dance!
New York Is a mug of hot cocoa balanced precariously on my hip flexor, deep psoas, not yet sore from class with Bryan Strimpel, as I listen to George Strait on Pandora and I read Patti Smith talk about New York, over 30 years ago. She dropped different names (John Coltrane John Lennon) and took herContinue reading “Poems from New York, #7 “
Proof of existence is where there is nothing but this marshy field and a ghost of the future
Les choses que tu fait The days that are good are when the desire to dance is strong. Those days it comes out in all my actions. On the subway ~ in writing Les jours quand je voudrais danser et je ne peux pas mais, yes I can. Just not in class I amContinue reading “Poems from New York, #5”