Since They Took the Carousel from the Park

The Italian Cypress looks toward Spain,

clearing the skyline, Longing a sunset free from dust

water in rows reflecting the trees top clearance,

basket of fruit, ripe with flies in San Francisco fog,

tied to a parasail hanging on the bay.

 

I Want to Build a Boat from a Puzzle

 

I Want to Build a Boat from a Puzzle,

that will bring you back to the shore

where you can sleep again, where you can eat the olives again—

I am practicing for you in hills and under trees

but I cannot remember where we saw the man letting the horses go,

so I went to the place we found the birds but the cages were gone

and the bottles were empty.

I have emotions not because I am emotional but because there is a moon

and they tell me he has never slept in cages.

 

Neo-Realist's Impression

 

You entered the hotel looking for your last pair of shoes,

stretching my breathe as far as I could; catching your attention,

laughing on the wall. Calcium and rust deposits on your throat;

said you slept for less than an hour.

 

The way that Italian films flat light,

catching colorless sunsets off the bridge,

the myth of Gold-coast dreams rarely seen.

Under street lights we catch up to ourselves.

I'm taking the price tag off your winter in Paris.