it was pink with morning
the reflections on factories,
the soothing river, its dark licks, its fresh caress
from rooftops everything was seen, everything heard
without words, the deepness of eyes served to translate
the moment—
its unexpected embrace
silent in its loveliness, high above all that's real-
and everything understood
like a dream
pink hues of morning turn to day
silence turns to words
and the embraces simply turn
                       round and round
                         inside unexpecting minds

and i feel almost dreaming right now
the slight touch of reality
                      its smooth fingers on my face
                          through my hair
the fine line between
here
       and
                there
where everything is alive
a bit more fresh
             the way things coincide ...

back   home
Free Williamsburg | 93 Berry Street | Brooklyn, NY 11211
[email protected] | August 2000 | Volume 6


Home!