MORNING, BROOKLYN, WAITING FOR SNOW
January 2, 2014
The city is silent waiting the storm.
Soft gray cloud interior
shifts of gulls and pigeons circling the white.
Jets roar passed in minute internals
a steady stream endless.
That and the white noise machine
are the only sounds this morning
as if we were isolated in country wild,
not one among millions
pressed up against one another,
houses huddling for warmth
jockeying for space, straining for breath
against a crush of white gray sky.
-excerpt from Painting the Weather poems 2013-2020
Digitally printed 43 pages, edition of 20, hand signed $30 contact to purchase
January 2, 2014
The city is silent waiting the storm.
Soft gray cloud interior
shifts of gulls and pigeons circling the white.
Jets roar passed in minute internals
a steady stream endless.
That and the white noise machine
are the only sounds this morning
as if we were isolated in country wild,
not one among millions
pressed up against one another,
houses huddling for warmth
jockeying for space, straining for breath
against a crush of white gray sky.
-excerpt from Painting the Weather poems 2013-2020
Digitally printed 43 pages, edition of 20, hand signed $30 contact to purchase
"The Hill, Moon Rising" page 29 in "Painting the Weather"