Trying to find my roost
one lidded, late afternoon,
the consolation of color
worked up like neediness,
like craving chocolate,
I'm at Art Institute favorites:
Velasquez's "Servant,"
her bashful attention fixed
to place things just right,
Beckmann's "Self-Portrait,"
......
the bridges of Chicago
are not the bridges of Paris
or the bridges of Amsterdam
except they are a definition
almost no one bothers to define
like life full of surprises
in what now looks to be the oldest
modern American city
o apparition of the movie version of
the future circa 1931
......
Blithe humour yearns for
Pridian vagaries before now,
Trusting the mooring of able
Ships on clear waters of
Mirror images.
Wistful, our call on the sere
Tongue of harmattan, when
Pines whistled in unison to
Welcome straying and returning
Birds – black confetti over
......
This red hush toppling over the sky,
Wanders one step toward the stars
And dies in a questioning shiver.
The steel-mill chimneys fling their gaunt seeking
A little distance into the red
That softly combs their smoky hair.
The steel-mill chimneys only live at night
When crimson light makes love to them
And star-light trickles through the red,
Like glimpses of some far-off fairy tale.
......
Blithe humour yearns for
Pridian vagaries before now,
Trusting the mooring of able
Ships on clear waters of
Mirror images.
Wistful, our call on the sere
Tongue of harmattan, when
Pines whistled in unison to
Welcome straying and returning
Birds – black confetti over
......
Trying to find my roost
one lidded, late afternoon,
the consolation of color
worked up like neediness,
like craving chocolate,
I'm at Art Institute favorites:
Velasquez's "Servant,"
her bashful attention fixed
to place things just right,
Beckmann's "Self-Portrait,"
......
the bridges of Chicago
are not the bridges of Paris
or the bridges of Amsterdam
except they are a definition
almost no one bothers to define
like life full of surprises
in what now looks to be the oldest
modern American city
o apparition of the movie version of
the future circa 1931
......
This red hush toppling over the sky,
Wanders one step toward the stars
And dies in a questioning shiver.
The steel-mill chimneys fling their gaunt seeking
A little distance into the red
That softly combs their smoky hair.
The steel-mill chimneys only live at night
When crimson light makes love to them
And star-light trickles through the red,
Like glimpses of some far-off fairy tale.
......