Urban Square

Wayne Thiebaud, Urban Square, 1980, Oil on canvas, Oakland Museum

rise

canyons

steel over streets

vaulting rivers fly

to the hard, blue sky

sharper than

ink, than

bright city

lights.

(22 Oct. 2013)

In the Cold

In the cold

there's no room

for old fears; tears

that freeze on your

cheeks are

useless.

Lying under narrow eves

on porch or sidewalk grate

waiting for sleep 

or death

to ease your pain, 

you cannot remember

how you got this way;

for thought, like water, 

congeals to solid rock,

and you can't 

even pray.

(12 Dec 2012)

*******

Author's Note: Estimates of the numbers of homeless in the US today range from 200,000 to 500,000, many of whom are unsheltered children.  This is a national disgrace.  Update 3/2017: President Trump's new budget inhumanely slashes poverty programs while increasing military spending.  He thinks this will make us more safe.


**********


В холодное


В холодное
здесь нет места
за старые страхи, слезы
что мораторий на ваш
щеки
бесполезно.

Лежа под узким кануны
на крыльце или тротуаре решетку
ожидания для сна
или смерть
чтобы облегчить вашу боль,

Вы не можете вспомнить
как вы получили таким образом;

для размышлений, как вода,
застывает в твердые породы,
и вы не можете
даже молиться.

***

Автор отмечает,
Оценки числа бездомных в диапазоне сегодня США от200000 до 500000, многие из которых являютсянезащищенных детей. Это национальный позор.

Deep in Grey

Deep in grey

we wait

as black night drops

suddenly 

and completely.

At the end of our day, 

hope is measured

one careful procedure

at a time.

Night is not kind in winter.

Too early It comes,

and stays too long,

brings fear,

red eyes and stinging tears.

lit by red numbers

night measures our lives

one pulse at a time,

in dim blue bars

gleaming in the distant ceiling.

Clasping hands

In the fading day’s light 

we pray

for one more 

morning.

(28 Oct 2010)

Rockville Road

soft sweep

of gentle hills

fallow fields

famished

for black seed

worked earth

glistening

in late rain

listening

to songs of

spring

as every

narrow

furrow

waits

(20 July 2013)

Spring Storm

Duck Creek Lightning Night, 2012, oil on linen
V...Vaughn (used by permission)

night drops suddenly

birds, nervous, slip into eves,

silenced; a stone drops.

peace be on this stream.

sliding song of rain soaked creek,

rising moon, refreshed.

(28 April 2014)