A high heat pushed roadway lines sideways crowds trample the streets pulled toward destinations in a sea of shoulders fire escapes spread waffle slanted shadows onto faded bricks a radio pushes static into an alley garbage cans release the aroma of yesterday young men rolled up sleeves bright buckles black pocket … More EYES OPEN
The alley weary brick lined its surface scarred the aroma of dampness lingering waits expectantly for its fraction of sunlight never enough to heal the sordid lingering air like sidewalks wide streets or parks where children play the alley is the center between buildings holding out for a few angled moments
The streets are me broken chains of thought in the company of whistles and horns a subway below sidewalks of people fishing for space between crosswalks while a guitar and sax play songs for quarters and dimes all beneath a sun and clouds forming shade and shadows as the engine is motion
It was a night short on dreams. Abstract cellophane images without voices. Gauzy waves rising and spilling over. Busy traffic on a street, in a city I might have passed through. The sun begins to set and then rises up again; the gift of an extra day. Words write themselves onto paper, then disappear. Once … More DREAMY
Street lights sign in as dusk resigns to darkness. Scattered shadows of leaves dance on midnight sidewalks. Homes sleep in silence. Dark breezes lift curtain edges, creating life from worn cloth. Porch lights dot the galaxy of streets. Picket fences keep strangers away but ghosts pass through freely. A train whistle, distant yet sharp, bleeds … More MIDNIGHT
He was a life less used. A flower rejecting water. He considers himself a square, surrounded by a circle; room to stretch but never enough to change position. The drumming of his words sway like wheat heads driven by random winds as his words release, explaining the unnecessary. He drums his fingers on … More OPEN HARVEST
STREET VIEW Indifference streaming. Decades of walls. Doors locked. Playgrounds hold the future. Dogs bark at shadows. Every fence leans with weak defense. Overgrown empty lots have no memory. Black suits and hats. Generations of braided hair and faithful prayers. Winsome songs slip to the background. Faces like flowers bloom with smiles. … More STREET VIEW
Raging winds ran the streets like wolves in search of unsuspecting prey. Hats took flight. Garbage can lids spiraled like runaway Olympic discus’. Newspapers trashed the sky with yesterdays sales and obituaries. Hats tumbled like children on the last day of school. Down 7th avenue a gust of random winds created the sound of trains … More ROTTEN APPLE
Streets feed on the language of cool and jive. Tongues of curtains slip from sides of windows as if pointing with their curves with creases to music like steam rising in waves over blacktop rumbling energy the sound moves pressing against doors and into alleys as night encourages the people to open packages wrapped … More STREET LANUAGE
Abandoned newspapers jump into flight, cartwheeling over the parking lot, flattened on a fence. Its abstract art of yesterday’s news; the death of a soldier, a circled apartment on East 86th and fifth. A trumpet player joins the wind, flattening out the notes, falling into rhythm, welcoming the noise. It’s a night avoiding … More COUNTING SHEEP
