Monday, August 17, 2009

Heat Advisory

Four Random Quatrains, Mid-August, New York City

Pink infant in a harness pressed
against her father’s hairy chest –
a pretty word made gentle flesh –
ineffably at rest, at rest.


A shirtless dirty homeless man
is passed out on the curb: the span
between himself and traffic can
be measured by a baby’s hand.


When did you learn that you exist?
When did you incur the risk
of grasping that you would desist?
Will anything beyond your death persist?


Plain and plump, sunburned, a girl
sits on the beach: the breezes whirl
and suddenly the skies unfurl –
and drop a huge transparent pearl.


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