August, New
York
She closed
Curtains of
rain
Swept under
the bridge
That brought
your thoughts
Back to the
concrete
Brittle yet
firm
An
advertisement of your freedom
Captured in
the late evening glow
Over the hum
of the freeway
That
beckoned you once more
On the road
again
Forevermore
The memories
swelled in the narrow
Passage of
the moment
Sought to
reform upon the other side
Always swimming
toward
An angel’s
landing cascading through
The river
valley
Where the
shadow of new life
Stood before
Enveloped the
old deaths and rebirths
Just a brim
of light remained
To savor the
sweet life
A bon vivant
Designing thy
consciousness
To empty of
itself
Lest your
only conversation
Was the brim
of memories
Held behind
the levee
Of futures
yet unknown
But tabled
still
In a relief
of soul
The bountiful
echo of the universe
Resounding in
your latent thoughts
Even your
repetition
Lost its
resonance
A formulaic
awareness
Became privy
of itself
At the
expense of effectiveness
While the
formula carried on
An empty
rote
Day in and
day out
A freedom
paying homage
To its walls
The streets
of its home
Where
roaches lived
In the black
shoes
That scurried
like the dancer’s step
Whom carried
them
Through many
lives
In just one
stride
Along the
silent sidewalk
Grated like
chalk ill drawn
On the board
For the
child to discern
Your inner
child wanted only
To reimagine
yourself
A new and
improved identity
Transcendent
of the humble appreciation
Of truths
like consumerism
Like the
dismal science
Echoing throughout
the pressure
Growing in
your waxy ears
As you
climbed to greater heights
Molded by
the wisdom of the market
A freedom
that showed itself
Only in the
darkness of the night
Like roaches
Scurried
back into their holes
Once the
light was shone
And left the
appearance of
Freedom
You see the
paradox we’ve drawn
You see now
the mask of the truth
The clash of
transience and permanence
For no
wisdom speaks of absolutes
The only
truth that which is free
To reimagine
itself
Like a child
born again
I stood
outside the brick conduit
Where a
hollow bass
Carried us
through dawn
Our dog
sniffed at the foot of the stairs
For the
footprints of those burnt out
Blaze up the
night
In a
comatose drum
The street
was soot
In the
residue of oil
The light
changed for no one to come
The restaurant
let itself of the vultures
Who waited
on our stoop
Who listened
to the drunken voices
Singing Latin
music on the corner
Who spoke
themselves mad at times
And boded of
the short walk
To the
freeway
Carry us
home
Where life
is a free trade
That may
always run no risk
Deliver the
blessing of perfect love
A stone
cleansed of its impurities
Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
