I woke early
this morning in Lisbon
before the birds chirped
the traffic shattered
the silent room in the
Sao Bento Guesthouse
and the old tram
struggled, groaned up
the steep hill
She stirred beside me
even and measured breaths
I turned on the white light
and read Pessoa
and Florbella Espanca
poets of the past
of the hilled city
split poetic personalities
the one
she, the other,
a killer of
her self
"Abre os elhos e encara a vida!"*
advice not taken
today we'll walk those hills
ride those trams
and eat seafood along the Tagus
as we ignore
the passing
of our lives
*open your eyes and face your life
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 3:38 PM UTC
eighty-eight degrees
walking up Broadway
after shedding tears
too tough to hold back
in St. Pauls Chapel
sat near Washington's
pew and the hundreds of
police & firemen patches
from around the globe
holding the kind & crazies
the letters & pictures
and banners honoring
those who fell with
those towers on that
September morning
blasts of cold air slap
us, the pedestrians with
a welcome relief for a
few brief seconds
passing through
Chinatown
to Little Italy
but not quite there
thinking back to those
towers, those
lives that were up
those stairs
in the fire and
then the smoke and
rubble
now having seen the
rebirth of the spirit
of America
the new tower so
tall already
like God’s right arm
pointing into the
stringy clouds
parting them
America aiming to
come back
again
as I walk up
Broadway and
stop for the light
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 3:35 PM UTC
It was another time
Walking on the large pebbles
Of Beer beach
The long shadows of the
Dry docked boats of the
Local fishermen resting
Until the next morning on
The English Sea
Stretching towards the
Jurassic cliffs that crumble
Signs warning the visitors
Of the probability of
Falling rocks
Cliff pieces
It was another time
A time I almost
Forgot
Until I returned
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 3:33 PM UTC
It looks like a soft
Strange cushion of
Cotton just pulled
Out of the package
Below
It goes on forever
All the way
To the blazing blue
White stained horizon
Angels must have
Fallen through these
Lazy clouds while
Refusing heaven
(Finally)
Dropping on snowy
Green mountainsides
Onto filthy pavements
In dark alleyways
Many into vast seas
I’ve fallen through them
More than a few
Times, but
Always eventually
Bouncing back
So far
Something lost each time
They’re opening up now
Making holes
Exposing green earth
The sun making a river
Glow
A long curving snake
The earth is
Over-rated
And the delicate ones
Often decide to
Fall off
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC