Thursday, December 14, 2006
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
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?
Posted by James Honzik at 6:59 PM
Thursday, December 07, 2006
On that last night,
as the temple of the stars burned,
as all those
photographs, notes to lost loved ones, secret wishes,
hopes to rise above failure, bitterweet memories,
tears , fears, and dreams,
turned to glowing ashes,
and rose up above to the night,
the last four great tree trunks of the structure,
held together by tracery of timber,
held out long against the fire,
after what seemed like an eternity,
they slumped together
and fell down together
into great burst of sparks.
Posted by James Honzik at 2:38 AM