In a Chinese Restaurant in New England
Sunday, October 25, 2009
He left his shoes in a car,
Locked, with his mechanic.
Resigned since Sunday
to feet soft and dirty. Its
dry, at least,
and a man has to eat.
A View
The clouds move too slowly for sound.
The crashes of solid dew into yielding green mountainside
Misting the shoulders of nomadic shades
Dextrous, fading shades
Singing faded dirges from notebook
___________________pages
While we sit in silence.
Two More Blocks Home
A bridge settled down
In the paved valley
Is fog of concrete pillars
Pushing at your side
____________As you accept passing
through the brume
Up high but right around envoloping
me, bearing me through
Rough exhaust-wind
in my ears held up to the world.
It holds me
As I would a seashell,
Hearing cyclones
Of breaths and breaths
That dampen my chest.
And a religion stirs.
Col. Inlet
Long curved theatre
Pressed up against the surf
Holding there stone attention
To srayed white froth
Deep billowings
And the hands of multitudes.
Masts of ships
eyes_____inhale the ocean's tears
for Relief.
Gasped libations and pagan steps
Sounds
You no longer stare right at the sun
There is a crowd.
Too polite to titter and move
Adopting instead a subtle rippling sway;
You are tired salted and damp
and you accept Rest.
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