Harbor
along the harbor
where green sea goes gray
on an autumn day
as it’s turned half winter
now in the sun
and the pairs form
of cold light and mannequins
that mouth out with their frozen lips
of something yet to come
The Epitome of Ambivalence No. 1
Forgive me: I’m fitful.
My fists are on the table.
Please unmask the point at which
I’d given up my plan.
Springtime in Central Park
In Central Park the cherries begin to bloom
On a sun-drenched day when birds have left their notes
For us, intruders inside their sanctuary moats,
Unseen but heard in the shadows where the branches loom.
I walk a narrow path that’s filled with wood chips,
Fine grass and leaves enveloping the way,
Creeping past and among the gates on which they play
In the wind like the smiles on a thousand lips.
Deep within the trees there is a shelter
Where all the park unfolds its jagged edges
And there I rest in the mid-day swelter
