arthritic

so unearthly cold and grey, monday. looking out the window from the fifth floor of the lang building this afternoon was dark and unpromising. robin had a headache and gave it to me.
--what are your symptoms? i said
--like a bad hangover plus food poisoning. he said. yes, exactly.
today looking out that window, i wanted to knock down the red brick walls across the street to let in more sky. but the sky is just bleak and mean, so why should i bother?
winter is setting in, slowly sinking down through the streets; i can feel it in my knees and hip bones because they crack when i walk and my ankles ache when i sleep. its a different feeling than summer heat or humid rains pouring through to make elbows and joints ache. it is a cold that claws at ones bones and is irreverent of layered clothes.

looking out a Lang window during poetry class

The wall is of glass
Opening out to 11th street.
The brick across the way is red red red
With black painted window frames
Covered by the trees.

The trees are what I love best from
This window. In September they
Are still green and the window is
Filled and the street is filled with tree.
But now, in such late October, the leaves have
Gone so red and yellow
The street is covered but the window is cheated.

It’s the fault of the Nor’easter
That rained through last week.
The brown bark can now
Show its face. Almost shaven clean
But not yet bare.

Soon, maybe by Christmas, the leaves
Will all go and the bark be covered
in cream and snow
And I will love this window just the same;
The white and the brown and the red red brick.

red saks sweater

New York is bundled up all in
Wintry coats and dusty sleeves
Away with the sandals,
Away with your fingers!
Unpack the yarned scarves, boots, and mittens.
The six train will be warmer now and
Cozier at the rush hour
Instead of sweat and skin, there will
Be down feathers and sweaters.
Thus here I sit in Lang,
In my Papa’s red Saks sweater
The sleeves must be rolled up—
Twice—
So my fingers and wrists are free.
The tight, red yarn knits on for rows and rows
and folds down to my knees
But all these rows used to just fit across
His Christmas belly
All full of turkey and pudding and pie.

patellar reflex

i love, i love, i love.

i cannot stop but
it is so near
when you are--

i want to just be.

its involuntary, all of it.
like a patellar reflex in
my knee, i love you.

the red sea

i have gone and bleached you out.
like a stain of wine on my favorite shirt
i have purged you gone.
the red sea has swallowed you whole
your chariot will ride
no more.
yet what land or sea
could keep you to begin
with?
you unearthed yourself
from the desert sand
and in your thirst
you drank me dry.

how selfish you are!

the red sea will swallow you whole
and water your mouth its fill
of love and
salty greed in the desert.
And should the sea spit you out, the
sand will not take you back.
you will wander to sinai
but your feet will not rest.

you are never satisfied, afterall,
with the ground you have tread
or the mouths you have loved.
so wander the desert,
my dear, until it takes
you back.

sometimes i worry about you and i.

blood brothers

we are almost in alphabet city

running down

first avenue

we are almost in alphabet city

eating nights away

in june,

and stepping over puddles

on the bowery.

the water clings to

the bottoms of our

shoes and seeps into

our heels.

the streets are in our

blood stream now

like blood brothers

we'll never forget

eachother.

we are almost in alphabet city

the avenues getting

closer to the water--

the water that

beats between the

shores of qns and

this chunk of island

beats between you

and i.

the east river and its

brown brown waters

hug the boroughs

we love best.

we alre almost in alphabet city

one foot in qns

and the other on the bowery.

but don't spread those

legs too wide

don't lose your balance

and maybe something else.

our fingers shake and

our ankles quake

on this lower east

side corner.

let houston run you through--

you won't die on this

side of the water--

she'll jsut steal half

your soul and feed it

to the river.

let houston run you

through the lung, my love

as we sit smoking

in the garden.

the bowery owns us

now, sugarplum--

we're blood brothers--

let her love you through

let her love you through

the sole of your feet.

let her sidewalks love

your legs as they wander

up and down

up and

down

lettered avenues.