Facing Tompkins Square Park

Ruthless systems generate new weather –
inside, out -- absorb each tiny atmospheric
influence and spin each confluence through
head and body – groin, especially,
and legs – which sometimes fill and beg
with lightning fire, thunder push – powered
high to run: or mush into a muddy done-ness:

dumped into a heavy dark humidity
and dreary warm occlusion of the will: inertia --
flump: but now it's light, inordinately clear:
I face two windows here which give
imagination access to a woods so full
of frilly green you couldn’t possibly imagine
this was yet another New York scene –

not an edifice in sight: just whispers now
and then of taxi engine. I am half between
where I have been and where I’ll be: that is
to say, I am precisely where I always am:
thriving in departing and arriving: moving
to a place where poems grow on every
tree. Just wait and watch. You’ll see.


see 'hare krishna tree' pic & article on the park beneath it:

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://twi-ny.com/tspharekrishnatree.jpg&imgrefurl=http://twi-ny.com/twiny.8.17.05.html&h=324&w=432&sz=123&hl=en&start=25&sig2=tLXAfmY-9r5DQN6_Z4VFfQ&tbnid=OPTyxS0u7gQIGM:&tbnh=95&tbnw=126&ei=lVdESMy2HoWmpATHpa2cDw&prev=/images%3Fq%3D%2522tompkins%2Bsquare%2Bpark%2522%26start%3D20%26gbv%3D2%26ndsp%3D20%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26sa%3DN%26ie%3DUTF-8
.