INCALCULABLE
I'll be sitting at some Red Hook bar at the
time you arrive. I know these things inherently :
the gulls will squawk and the saltmarsh of the
harbor will be filled with water taxi craft. A
few testy girls will be walking near Fairway.
Artists, everywhere again.
-
Tall men are like icicles - high and thin, but
just melting away. Russians or Slavs, we make
no distinction because we cannot. Looking out
at the potato sky, I am watching another sun,
a dimmer day, something of the Winter approaching.
-
I like the sounds of cataloguing where I am. I hear the
bricks of an ancient ground, like some Roman aqueduct
coming back into being. Real men rise to the occasion.
No comments:
Post a Comment