CITY WATCHING

Yesterday’s puddle reflects a crescent day moon. Leather jacketed teenagers hold court on Bowery Corner. “Which way is …?” asks the stranger. Three people point in different directions; the lost hold the discovery of where they need to be. Overhead subways kill the corners with sparks. Car horns take apart the air. Sun reflected windshields … More CITY WATCHING

A LINE DRAWN

It’s a slow step into cold air; the season twists out a new face. A cat meows at a half moon. Heaven hears the barking of angry dogs. Strands of mist stretch from street lights. Whispers rise from the alley. Window dressings slumber. Libraries welcome closing hours. Rain reduces the burden of clouds. Dead winter … More A LINE DRAWN

ALWAYS THERE

It was a black moon night absent of shadows, full of dreams. Days bouquet of clouds melted into tasteful air. There was a release of sounds, living for a moment, then lost. The pulse of dark became strong. A light breeze engaged unwilling leaves. Stone walls held tightly the history of land. There was a … More ALWAYS THERE

CROSSING OVER

She considered herself a life shadow, embracing long solitary moments; eyes open to darkness. Life had become a plausible intruder as she slept away painful images and the jest of youth. She was now an unstable passenger a fleshy veneer no longer frightened of the past. She suspected the end, though assured by faith, she … More CROSSING OVER

UNDERNEATH

Fall back under early stars. The sea moves reflective waves, pulsing onto sand, building like engines of thunderous clouds. Streams of people merge into temporary spaces; strangers on corners, a brief land of shoulders staring straight ahead.  A steady rain clears the dust.  Afternoon finds a place before dusk.  Footsteps continue.  Everyone owns a portion … More UNDERNEATH

SHADOW LINE

Night shadows are the feast of awakenings. The outskirts of compassion, absent of spiritual thresholds. They are the counterparts without conversation; the willing partner in an imperfect sphere. They are unassuming.  Their intension is directed, visually controlled, a bondage of motion; their gifts are weightless, failing to intrude. Style is choreographed without independence or expression. … More SHADOW LINE

POUNDING WATER

A muddy river, thick with silt, half trees and trash, flows slowly past the city, slipping under bridges, competing with barges, rolling through like in dreams when you feel your running underwater. Docks and spits of land reach out at the passing debris; bulldogs inspecting their next meal. Stone legs from a train overpass push … More POUNDING WATER

THIS WAY

The clock of many faces. Wrinkles stretched from time. Destiny swims in the eyes and legacies sweat from hard work. The silence of seconds push the hands into the next hour; no song can comfort the waste of circles within circles.  Dawn and dusk feed on one another.  Children are the second chance to find … More THIS WAY