New York Evening – Autumn 1984

Sparse crowds shadowed wet streets,

In an asphyxiation of color.

There was a scent of anise and eucalyptus.

Crows were full of trees.


It was a distant hiss of mistral.

It was a death-rattle of dishes from the Felix,

And blue and white flowers like stars

Littered the corner of West Broadway and Grand.


Rain whispered a cadence and cascade

In theia mania for no one.


Along the city’s stone canyon,

Our silhouettes became Motherwell umbras

From a senescence of nights we had left years ago.


In red pennons,

A few remaining maples

Defended against October’s last siege

All the way to the East village.


At West Broadway and Grand,

It was an asphyxiation of color,

And crows were full of trees.