Saturday, April 15, 2006

A pretty old poem I think. Unpublished I think.


bull moon over manhattan, events
separated by distant swells alight
all tuned to posture, twirls, smoke
primps their maleness in the wind chain
reaction imposes solution, allure, ore
the lack, digressive, so many many men
so little crime in tight dark rows in order
to be noticed behind the enlarging
full of a sparkling night
coarse, scarcely rythmic
innate composure