I noticed this scene when I was stopped at a light crossing Manhattan. The longer I watched it unfold, the more I wondered if I was watching a prank or a living art exhibit…
Behold! The unheralded life arc of a scrap of iron ore. No pomp, no circumstance. Handled by a hundred human hands, regarded by none.
Another man’s list: impressed by wet boots into the pavement of a parking deck on a Tuesday. The author, by now, unseen and unknown, shuffled off the coil. His orders since discarded in the marching– a fleeting, transient monument to his duty. . The words are simple, cryptic, and pragmatic. They describe a morning errand,Continue reading “Another Man’s List”
There, out in the harbor, with her back to the madding, stands the old noble Lady with her torch and her crown. Just the sight of her back, and her book, and her beacon still thrills me the most on my way into town. . She stands on her island, stands for Hope and forContinue reading “Out In the Harbor”
The streetlight aspires to a small role on Broadway,And the traffic cop fancies that he was born king.The pigeons peck pennies and wish at the fountain,To trade their anxieties for songs they can sing.The taxi cab wishes that he was a tugboat,The dockbuilder whistles and dreams he’s a bird.While only the poet—and just for oneContinue reading “Broome Street”