-notation-

notating that the outside atmosphere

carried with it the same fragrances
which saturated the inside;
the scent of metal and water;

the warm bread shuttled
from the ovens of the bakeries,

the significant odor of leaded gasoline
and the broader

expansion in the perfumes of the dressers;

the beaten baseball, damp from the rainfall

in the twilight of last night's game
waiting at the kitchen table;

the aromas of sweet tomato sauces
duplicated

over the cracked and weeding
tarmac of the playground, wafting
from window to window; the chalk-
dust of the afternoon's arithmetic

coating our nostrils;

the day's gatherings in close quarters
face to face; where the entries

are the links to everything,

street crossing to street crossing,

each with its atmospheric distinction

and if I have to begin someplace, I’ll begin here.

                                                 Quequechan

-twilight time-

In search of the lost 

poetry of Quequechan

the sweetness of its early stage

the rainwater telling its history
on the summer street

the warmth of air over the puddles

the scent of metal in them—

the schoolyard’s drenched 

activity

the playground’s consumption

the pitch 

the stance the readiness

of the grip

the hunt for the girls 

who never ran for cover

who graced the intersections
who clung to our sides
against the odds

against the will of their fathers—

who moved better than anything
who dressed for the kill 
on Friday nights

the scent of Windsong

caressing their hair; 

the scent of metal in the water—

the stance, the readiness
in the grip—

the music and the slow-

shuffled movement of the dance.

                                  Columbus Park

-Closures and beginnings-

It's Autumn, the back

door to November, and it clings

like the maple leaf at its weary fist.

I’m not expecting anything, but
simply considering what I want to do

won’t get it done,

and getting it done won't make it right.

I'm gathering information

from the wake of what's been left behind.

It's Autumn, the back

door to November, where

it's in the flotsam, the stories are found.

November 1, 2012