A dream of a city in pictures
I had longed to brush my feet
Along this cement street
As it’s echoes bounce my soul
And I’m undone; console
Myself these petty griefs
These icicles of life burn
Striking my catholic yearn
As one painted in glass; unopposed
While, I, stand with doors closed
Shepherd my furtive hurts aside
Those familiar silent ghosts
That bound me to that coast
Are shedding layers upon forever
Whispering some past endeavor
As I am, as I do, in the blip of solitude
But things tend as they do
And I mean not to misconstue
Because life is a shadow of a dream
And I have awoken; tears all astream
To be here, where I have only wisps
We spend hours upon days
Seeking those so precious rays
Of a splendid dear life
That robs our conscious strife
And bleeds into spacious-given paradise
I sit; I think on my hunted
Which I have never confronted
Even; in a miniscual sense
But I have been, in even times, dense
Of joys that ring true
So I shutter in this New York cold
As I blunder the streets, pretending to be bold
Thinking on my old familiars; tending
Praying this was not an ending
For my heart grieves in your absence
But yet we are apart, we beat as one
And I cannot speak for my undone
As I wish you here, you light
My head in this current blight
Among the crowds and cold weather
And I write this mangled words
Wishing they were magnificent birds
Instead of carpets that fill the room
Wishing I had flowers to bloom
To welcome your name-day in.
