At the corner of Columbus and Broadway,
I always see a big man,
white beard, distinguished,
sitting on the corner, as if on a throne.
I have been told he is an ancient god,
a Zeus or Thor,
who has forgotten his own name.
One night I watched closely.
He was staring down Columbus.
I turned and looked.
Full moon in night sky
burned like a hungry eye
through misty low clouds.
The city a fabric of light,
folded with grace over hills.
patterns spelling out a poetry of
hieroglyphic symbols
The moon drifted slowly
toward the edge of the Transamerica Pyramid
aircraft in pattern
moved across the night.
Does he dream of the sons of Daedulus?
Nice post here. The poet on city light is too beautiful and heart touching.
ReplyDeleteChandeliers