her only costume, Hebrew
running up one leg.
☯
What we have, at last,
nothing less than this window,
facing the sidewalk
☯
In the company of
twenty others, for the bus stop,
I’m safe in my cave.
☯
Spaghetti tonight,
because he was in the mood;
I’ll remember today.
☯
Steady beeping, heard
over the rain splatter, and
tearing of the wind.
☯
My two knees, shooting
sparks of pins-and-needles pain,
twin unseen circles
☯
Moss grown exact
around only the outlines
of the van’s windows.
☯
A helicopter,
blinking and blatting, steady
edge of the backout.
☯
Flashlight’s beam, broken
into pieces through the hedge,
into fireflies
☯
No, I did not take
the cider–I take your word
on how refreshing
☯
Weak signal, windstorm;
Friday’s national prime time
warped and foamy.
☯
“Today is Friday?”
she asks, and back she’ll come in
seven minutes time.
☯
Leaves fallen from one tree
only, one block, 4th Avenue,
snowing orange on grey.
☯
I must find meaning
in the wall’s one thin shadow
to get on with life.
☯
Spider, suspended
between the church and the street sign,
morning sovereign.
☯
Two books, worth reading,
I’m reasonably sure; and
lives stand on much less.
☯
A bum’s bicycle
blocking the doors of the train,
Milk-Bones, his dinner.
☯
Hollow-cored scraping,
start and stop, through the tunnel,
almost like a sob.
☯
One shut umbrella
alone on a station seat…
our world needs color
☯
“I’m lost,” says the dog
on the poster; I almost
believe he can talk.
☯
The street no one knows
turns out to lie one-half block
from where no one knows
