jazz blues classical soul
reverb reverb reverberation
changing stations in jamaica
heading for the gran ticino
on thompson street, west village---soon
after a stop at the asian laundry
slurping miso soup, reading village voice,
machado translated by bly,
my yellow bicycle tied up
between west third and bleeker
bunny runs in washington square park
two hours before sunset-
in fall around 3 PM, pooling
memory to memory gene bath
we endure a complex poem--
resembling nothing but the enormity
of everything--threaded throng
spinning taciturn, cheerful when
hydrangeas bloom blue-- blue purple
in its countenance: salacious, lugubrious,
bastions of beauty stoked
with thick shiny patina
patterned after heroes,
after hours we keep
plastering poems on wide eyed dancers
just in from the wildflower creek
lasting another supermooned solstice
finally we all can get some sleep
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| words and photo by kate lamberg(13) all rights reserved. |
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