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The Journey to the West

Though we journey to the West We pray to the East More or less that's the way Each day begins and ends It’s a tale everyone ...

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Ode Composed on a Wireless Device

Fresh words unfurl
Out the front door
Down 28th Street
Two leashes in one hand
Moving westward
Briefly pausing for
The bend and the scoop
And the subsequent grasp
Of poop-bag deftly stashed

And the hurried return
To the representational task
Ever leaning leftward
Through midtown grid
By method oblique
With life-force inferred
From words overheard
In the street

Hey anybody got a cigarette
On 7th Avenue turn
To meet the next mind storm
As the nameless man complains
About the mosquito swarm

I’m like a crooked cop
On foot patrol of
Fame’s outer precinct
Prone to thievery
Of the sidewalk
Sights and sounds
And thus well grounded
By a steadying beat

With benign intent
But slightly indiscrete
Observant of the cleft
Mother tongue
And fingers adept
At wireless pit a pat

A walk around the block
Is far from a random thing
So filled with the sense
Of a positive return
Now an accomplished fact
Thoughts wrapping round
For the click and send
In six stanzas complete


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