Little Apple, Central Park

stone ram head, rhododendrons a shaky sort of purple

steel and glass expulsions grimy air layered above

humanity’s silent repulsion, the morning after

ram head falseness

there in the air scoffs at our orange shape.

my worn leather boots unaccustomed to walking on flat ground.

azure sky and a celebration of birth in the grass like it matters who is born here

yellow lights through the bridge, overlapping but as of now

lapping up the overflow of our conversation

long glaring bubbles of speech in the mauve light we are trying to project

float your kite new york’s city

not that we will see it between your skyscrapers

one more weed in the cracks of the sidewalk

scabs on a tightwalk !

flightless we meet for the very first time very last time

all the gone lost women and swaggering men trying to own New York

one more sidewalk in the maze of weeds

scabs on a tightwalk!

Lady Liberty why do you continue to preside over short affairs?

look at God - (man’s) stoic architecture

dirty assumptions, vivacious shades, shirtless, worthless

all of you unwanted and finding comfort in matted grass pointillism

It takes the sun muddling us into fleshy conglomerates

It takes the cutting word, the lone effort.

find the redwood.

thousands of years of fire form Gods’ skyscrapers.