Bildingsroman
by Eon Scott
hours to go before the return could be counted with a precision bordering on prediction futured past would be more accurate, regretably. aspersions cast at the invisible intangible period, such is time, filled time, wasted, spent commodity of vacancy well spent for questions that compose scripture with a stare.
location, location-
from city to city
the conditions smile
so wide that you are
lost in the moment.
in my city
the past is
seldom gone
from conceit.
in the other city,
the past changes
on a daily basis,
a basis for love.
both cities wish they were young again.
winter’s fall-
there is no shortage of customers
as the air changes it’s tune.
the shrill sound advises,
brace yourself, as we sigh
a survivors’ breath of relief,
getting on it is, yes, it is.
quiet,
getting dressed and buttoned
again, for the first time,
significant, at times.
Second Avenue with destiny-
all aboard…..
mother of all days to put a guy in the ground, give him a good send off, that’s all you can ask,
right? in the sonnets, the dead are fabled, the reminders take some getting used to,
as you walk the city streets, down the stairs, into the air, out into the moist haze that is forever
and without delay, a hushed silence, farewell to greetings, ridiculed ambitions are remaining of
resistance, congruent with time as infants are coddled, conceived and abandoned, one weeps not
for the spared, unaware of the mystery but horrified of the continuous carnage barely
acknowledged, one surrenders to the dust without a trace as you fall below.
dead calm-
how they remember beginnings conditioned with
dead end streets and palooka alleys,
death endured and life triumphant.
The catcher in the rye,
the angstrom of Rabbit,
with
a tolerant jest
he remembered; the tenement dwellings and rain slicked streets,
the mournful churches of blessed suspect,
the long winter coats and constant hats with
bleak colored brick and call box connections,
a colossal heart has stepped
off.
abrupt, unannounced
expected not
what remained
of all there was when july water froze
and august stopped dead
in its tracks.