at its inception could anyone
imagine how the Iron Horse
would conquer rails replaced canals
nearly before the ditch was done
Category Archives: 365
Four Lines
Erie Canal an earthen ditch
all but stagnant water breeding
malaria and collecting
garbage but the boats would be grand
Four Lines
footsteps ringing on axe-hewn floors
new rope stacked bins brimming with nails
cut leather stale tobacco smoke
atmosphere of old hardware store
Four Lines
once entertainment lived outside
the box tent revivals silk-hat
parades theaters Roxy Grand
Broadway State all scrambling for eyes
Four Lines
gap-toothed blocks dream of yesterdays
trolley cars and their criss-cross wires
saloons niggling haughty church spires
false fronts gas lights and horse-drawn drays
Four Lines
pink petunias color our streets
but few pedestrians travel
where stores once shoulder to shoulder
fell fired
Four Lines
what is the color of the haze
where horizon ceases to be
an edge, waves permeating sky
until neither is the other
Four Lines
when my bawdy poet recites
I meet his silliness with groans
comment with a prolonged moan
to disguise my delight
Four Lines
I live in a triangle made
by the merging of two rivers
each day I watch to think wider
thoughts while the water sweeps away
Four Lines
blizzard sun blizzard sun hail rains
on the green grass but spring has sprung
lawn mowers and dandelions among
our snowman’s remains
the crafty sisters 