Transparent and Dark
The old venue reaches across the boardwalk,
its magic long evaporated,
a victim of neglect and storms in equal measure.
There are windows. high and void of glass,
the sashes lacking paint.
Rot is plentiful.
There are windows, high and dark,
perfectly clear, with nothing to see
save the perpetual night inside.
You stand below, knowing this is what others see
when they look at you,
transparent and dark,
overwhelmed by neglect and storms,
strangely unwilling
to succumb.
For the last decade, I have posted poems on my blog along with photographs I have taken. This one, for instance, has a photograph of an abandoned hall in Asbury Park, NJ. Posting poems here has made me look at the verse harder to make sure it can be "seen" without the photographs.
