28 January 2007


194
She is self-enclosed.
She rode the el
Mindless of the track
The parallel steel; her hair
Wind-drawn now on the platform,
Blurs her gaze over the shops
And yellow outposts
On the sidewalk of 200th street.
Indifferent in, amidst a murder of
Rooks--spectral and callous teamed--
Ether she is there, absent,
Yet the steps walk down to the street.

6 comments:

antonia said...

i like the handwriting.ialways thought when one looks at someone's handwriting, one can recognize the character of a person's love

mark said...

romantic idea, that. my writing's kind of sloppy, in more senses than one, perhaps. thanks for stopping by Antonia, glad you're still around in the "ether" here, ha, ha!

antonia said...

I like your c's
have myself a messy handwriting too, for whatever that means.
will certainly pass by here more often. Nice photeys.

mark said...

i thin k those are "s"es

Antonia said...

no they're c's
and where are your other poems?

mark said...

oh, there's a few more here.