Thursday, September 10, 2009
like honey in the trees
The evening light was like honey in the trees
When you left me and walked to the end of the street
Where the sunset abruptly ended...
Burnt horizons suddenly paved with golden stones,
Dreams I had, including suicide,
Puff out the hot-air balloon now.
It is bursting, it is about to burst
With something invisible
Just during the days.
We hear, and sometimes learn,
Pressing so close.
"A Mood of Quiet Beauty," John Ashbery
[Chicago Avenue west of Damen Avenue]
- ► 2011 (107)
- ► 2010 (115)
- if that ruins your life
- i smile and pass by
- Two new shows in October, at Myopic Books and Dove...
- i want to live like ipod people, i want to do what...
- [Dearborn Avemue at Randolph Street]
- talk trails into tattered scraps
- reminded of the beauty of gesture
- like honey in the trees
- even the buildings
- until all that remains
- such a pitch of tedium
- moving cross the borders
- air smelled of burned rubber and melted wires
- somehow lurking behind this absence
- no one hears his own remarks as prose
- ▼ September (17)