Monday, December 10, 2012

From the Brooklyn Side

From the Brooklyn Side

The dusk climbed behind me
as motorists and pedestrians
moved steadily west and east
across the Williamsburg Bridge.
They traversed the grey steel
in a ritual as old as the city.

Below, the East River roiled;
a rough mix from the tail waters
of Harlem and the Bronx Kill.

From the apex of the bridge
I watched as the sun burned
down the Manhattan skyline,
then drown in the Hudson,
and I thought about Whitman’s
Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.

Spread out in the distance,
like a living mural, New York
waited for my color and brush.


Photo by Gavin O'Neil and I hope he does not get mad because this picture was the inspiration.


Taylor Boomer said...

used to visit new york city,
love the view your words paint, well done.

Eden Baylee said...

I love your poems about NY - you make me smell and yearn for it.

Claudia said... miss her..the city..don't you..? love your city poetry your urban voice..

Wine and Words said...

I too love your urban voice. I live in a volatile urban environment...and now alone, even more of a culture shock. I am a country girl. When I went to New York, I found Central Park to be the only thing that seemed alive. Isn't it strange our differences? How beautiful and intriguing they are!

Dave King said...

I've never had a strong desire to see New York. Your poem tempts me, though...

Brian Miller said...

love this man...i miss the city...cant wait to get back to own town hardly qualifies...