Monday, March 31, 2014

too bright



The lights of the streets are too bright for the stars
To shine upon people of the pitiful pavement-
Artificial glitter, giving hypocritical heat
Behind fences, flowers are wrought with homesickness
As the screams of traffic and haste, going, going, 
Never fleeing fast enough to escape the concrete,
While untold millions stacked, piled vertically
Withdraw into similar scenes, absent experience
Painstakingly documenting the unmemorable.

Sunday, February 02, 2014

Brown Leaves




Some trees have brown leaves that refuse to drop;
Stubbornly clinging to branches: dry rot
Through deepest freeze, crowning certain trees
Won't take to the ground; to be tread upon,
To dissolve into fragments, one crisp step,
To dance precariously no longer.
Will April see them hovering still?
Or will cheerful pink blossoms show them out?