Sergeant Pepper, you are military and musical,
Dolled up in nickel, brass, ribbon, merit badges,
Pageant sash. We admire your regalia, the blinding
Sheen of your baton and trombone, the momentum
Of your small, broad-shouldered body leading us,
The crowd, onward, onward, onward, a jockey
Pitched forward as we stomp across the land,
High-stepping, angling over the earth like
Notes blackening an orchestral score, agitato,
The tempo that generates riots, mobs, stampedes.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009: On the Street….Black & Blue, Milano
Mona wore a black band on her wrist
Should she need to gather the heavy ropes
Of hair that hung down her back, velvety,
Pendulous. With it restrained, a walled river,
Her face was bare to the wind and breath
Of the world, and her wrist registered
An invisible pressure, a reassuring tightness,
the imprint of a slender handcuff.
Should she need to gather the heavy ropes
Of hair that hung down her back, velvety,
Pendulous. With it restrained, a walled river,
Her face was bare to the wind and breath
Of the world, and her wrist registered
An invisible pressure, a reassuring tightness,
the imprint of a slender handcuff.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009: On the Street…New York Look, NYC
Congratulations, Emily chanted to herself
As she teetered on four inch heels
Past the office where she had met
The man who almost ruined her
Or her year, I did it, I did it,
She sang inside herself
And floated along
Past the stacked
Squat building
Without
Flinching.
As she teetered on four inch heels
Past the office where she had met
The man who almost ruined her
Or her year, I did it, I did it,
She sang inside herself
And floated along
Past the stacked
Squat building
Without
Flinching.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009: On the Street….Signor Pipoli, Milano
Emboldened by age, Signor Pipoli
Took to buying flowers for beautiful women
And men. He presented these strangers,
These creatures with bunches of yellow roses,
Daffodils, crocuses, or trembling single stems—
An iris to the young redhead on the train,
A tulip to the one in the café, always reading
A calculus text. The florists could spot him
from across the street, loping along the sunny walk,
cigarette trapped between his coffee-coloured fingers,
Like branches bearing white and smoky blossoms.
Took to buying flowers for beautiful women
And men. He presented these strangers,
These creatures with bunches of yellow roses,
Daffodils, crocuses, or trembling single stems—
An iris to the young redhead on the train,
A tulip to the one in the café, always reading
A calculus text. The florists could spot him
from across the street, loping along the sunny walk,
cigarette trapped between his coffee-coloured fingers,
Like branches bearing white and smoky blossoms.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009: On the Street…Purple Shoes, London
The blue plastic bracelet from last night’s party
Looked just like a hospital wrist ID;
The stamp on Alice’s hand christening her a VIP
Had faded and spidered across her skin,
A painted bruise. Her head thumped, and her thin
Arms trembled all day. Who was this shaky twin
Shuffling and struggling along the street?
Six hours earlier, Alice had glittered in the heat
And cave-like dark. Today she was ill with defeat.
Looked just like a hospital wrist ID;
The stamp on Alice’s hand christening her a VIP
Had faded and spidered across her skin,
A painted bruise. Her head thumped, and her thin
Arms trembled all day. Who was this shaky twin
Shuffling and struggling along the street?
Six hours earlier, Alice had glittered in the heat
And cave-like dark. Today she was ill with defeat.
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