Urban Equinox

From a perch atop the trees

the symphony unfolds

The march of the dying solar lamps

their chromium splendor tarnished

they tumble askew, mostly dead

One glows dim

One pulses in time

a dying heartbeat

to loosened tailpipes

scraping the brick alleyway

salt encrusted springs groan

with the concussion of every pothole

The earth is dead

carpeted in thatch that will not

waken anew

Yet patches of fresh green tendrils

spring like acne upon her face

Life ever awakens from her sleep

to take back what is hers

No matter how vain the effort

A tree defiled

May still bloom

Cruel Days

These are the cruelest of days

when first light and warmth descends

spring winds usher wet breath

into our stale and dusty warren

To greet the still slumbering spirit

reluctant to yet face the sun

skeptic cells intuit

this will not last

The Western Arms, 1551

Months after

Still distant observer

Mute and obscured in dark

Again at this platform

over treetops and alleyways

I preside over alleycats

raccoons, the nocturnal denizens

that scatter from the light

they find safety

in the night

These sleepless hours I pace

awake to see

what secrets the night

would carry off before dawn

Almost the same hour

voices, urgent

Crying

Not anguish, anger

This night has forgotten

Autumn’s sweet parting kiss

upon the air

the last time

The air is cold

March’s reluctant grasp

hurls it malice

like the words hissing

across the distance

where I receive them unknown

I feel no sorrow this time

No grief rises from the pavement

The bitter venom is spent now

Victor and vanquished lie together

And when the light returns

blood preserved in ice and snow

It fits like you

Her grip begins to wane

Melt and rain

fill the drain

of another

place that fits like you

Now as dark descends

we adjust the lens

The introspective view

not like you wanted to

remember

the place that fits like you

Retiring at an early hour

and through your conscience scour

Reading volumes to quell the voice

that echoes hollow; does not rejoice

for atonement

in a place that fits like you

 

The eternal dawn

First trace of pink

edges the line

illuminates the boundary

where dark earth meets dark sky

Midnight blue retreats

to that void, starless and Bible Black

while the low heavens glow

Cornflower sea

where billowing riders advance

Violet, malevolent

malevioletly back lit

Colors rise in waves

the great orange orb ascends

Rush of air

as earth breaths deep

First gasp of a new day

The advance have climbed

now soft lavender dragons

straining for the west

the eternal dawn at their tails

 

Fifties

The age of penance

when every habit of posture

and vices

arrive to collect their due

When conscience dies

it’s slow death

Life experience has outstripped

so many things

assured were truths

Only leaves renegade conclusions

banishment

We howl in a distant wood

When the bridge is out

Left unpaid in acrimony

No sanction for false testimony

Upon swords of hubris do these titans impale

Contemplating

their next move and

What is the net effect of nothing

Vacuum, the quantum void

Fit the nooses

We’ll need the bullets to eat