Sea glass

Sea glass

Copyright © Jack Galmitz, 2015

New York, New York

Sea glass

Jack Galmitz

Sea glass on the shelf randomness

Scribbling in my form

the fractions of the clouds

in the predawn

In my neighborhood

there's no body of water

except me

The city

where I was born is gone

I tramp on

It gets dark early

still.... I'm glad to be

a living being

following the veins

of a leaf

to the street

Streetlamps and stars

we learn

from before

Looking at myself

in the store window

there's a fat old man

Starlings burst

from a leafless tree

a song in a dream

Apartment buildings

covered with graffiti

a new city

Outlines of buildings

in a photograph at night

& that tiny light

A rock my pillow

the moonlight my lamp

leaves flapping about

Overnight snow

crooked lines protruding

with shadows

The sky

a blanket of snow

before it snows

Rusted nails hammered

in a white painted board

thin slanted shadows

I charged the tree

and brought it down

it's warm in my house

Did the tree choose to be

or are its branches

latencies

An empty grain bin

a man and a woman

and nothing between

is it

a cry or a sound

the biting wind

I like factories

squat buildings belching smoke

but I hate lunch trucks

Christmas Eve

The tinsel on the parking lot fence

is barbed wire

Uprooted fig trees

razed villages

the bulldozer is to blame

Weep for Khlebnikov

his Radio of the Future

was murdered

Praise Avraamov

his Symphony of Factory Sirens

recorded the end of history

A miner's pick

found in a man's brain

on an x-ray

The drifts of snow

slow our movements down

dressed in space suits