Subway Poem 6/16/14

Photo: Buddy Beaverhausen

My thoughts run faster than this train.

They're Atlantic/Pacific

and scattered like

the yellow Nathan's paper napkins

strewn across the acrylic floor.

There is no track inside my brain

on which my thoughts ride

and, without destination,

they travel on their own.

Subway Poem # 33

freed from underground 

our minutes over the bridge
where the day appears like a mirage
glowing in the sun
the river, sky and buildings
a blue and silver diorama
glimpsed through moving windows
kinescope-like
flickering, savored
before the descent back into darkness plunged,

heaven misplaced

Subway Poem # 32

wearing weary masks 

asleep with open eyes

  this is not

    the tourist train

hardcore

  commuters

early morning risen

ambiverted

on morning's mission

  for daily bread

Subway Poem: # 31

Striata

above, the great grey sky

cold blanket

and the sidewalks

cloaked in snow

underground, warmth and refuge

riding in grey blankets

corner seats

fast asleep

grocery cart

of earthly possessions

as she rides and sleeps

and rides and sleeps

and dreams

 

Subway Poem # 30

the boy was i'd say

of high school age

sitting composed

hands politely folded

on his lap

he was alone amid strangers

and he wore a pink wig

styled in movie star fashion

there are dreams inside i guess

that his face does not express

but i understand his pink wig

and after all

it's halloween

Subway Poem # 28

we forget the rain

when we go underground

to catch the train

until we rise

and ride the bridge

through the drizzle again

and so then when we sleep

we submerge into the deep

until we rise to take the train

and face the rain 

Subway Poem # 29

lady in a burka

on the coffee cart

sells me a bagel with a schmear

and coffee of course coffee, coffee,

a cup of coffee

check my notes from underground 

but left my heart

not in san francisco 

but on the q train

on the train, outward bound 

on the train

Subway Poem # 27

standing on the platform 

of atlantic avenue

the old tile sign

still reads

pacific street

even though

the stop is now called 

atlantic avenue - barclays center

things change through time

time changes things

even me

it seems even me

everything conveys the sense

that all things are a/k/a today

and known by many names

gone incognito

with various aliases

and you may ask

what's in a name

it's just that i 

feel sad about 

impermanence

and temporality

and my mortality

Subway Poem # 26

Transmotion

jogger on Manhattan Bridge

parallel we pass

his tee-shirt matches sky, catches eye

behind him, tug boats

and tour boats 

travel perpendicularly

so do seagulls glistening in the blue

and we descend through Chinatown

back to the tunnel and the darkness

and the blindness through our windows

to the world

in motion

the notion that life passes by

life's on the fly

we move on

world, goodbye

My 25th Subway Poem

Collective Unconsciousness

beneath, beneath

we move

without personal barriers

in our subterranean dream

 unreality, minds merge 

in common imaginings

within a space and time

we share

we're not alone

our weary souls unite

do not awake

communicate

in our subway subconsciences

under the surface

depth

gravity

we fly below

and sleep awake

in clouds beneath the ground

Subway Poem # 24

Deliverance

come you crippled, come you lame

journey to salvation

you with grievances lay blame

come in from the station

we ride through an underworld

railway to redemption

rest your heads, let them be crowned

during our ascension

sing you sinners for your peace

underneath your covers

let them be your golden fleece

let us all be lovers

rise into the brand new day

rise into the promise

on a track that doesn't stray --

tell the doubting thomas

here's where we step off today

here's where we transform

we are off and on our way

now we're safe and warm...

now we're safe from harm...

now we're safe and warm

Subway Poem # 23

The Fecund Air

from the fecund air of spring
to the underground in the morning
my emotions are constrained
and everybody's yawning

spring has sprung! spring has sprung!
why can't anybody seem to realize?
where are the dewy smiles of Life
sunshine kissed and fragranced?

why so glum? so ho-hum?
glazed, hazed eyes surround me
as if unaware of the season
wake up, i want to say...
   like a blossom,
   like a flower,
   like birds in a tree
and from the underground,
   push up!
      you're a flower
   rise up!
      you're a tree
you're a miracle of life
abounding
it's spring!
   like a bird
      rise
like a canary from a cavern
back to life
in the sun,
in the fecund air
of springtime

Subway Poem # 22

The X People

john and jane doe

incognito

bundled and blended 

in black

expressionless faceless faces

contained and content

in their anonymity

defensive

deflecting

hermetic 

over coffee cups

and the daily news

Subway Poem # 21

Monodialogue

reciting

a dark and epic poem

in the windows of the doors

every time they close

to a scornful reflection

humiliating, berating, demeaning himself

with hateful hurtful words

his stop reached

he steps off

merging on the platform amongst commuters

silently taking his place 

just part of the crowd, the crush, the rush

he and his reflection

Subway Poem #20

I begin the year with the 20th poem in my Subway Poems series, all of which are featured in this blog's archives. It's a pithy one.

Subway Poem #20

trundled

through cruel dark tunnels,

coffee stains of desperation, 

lit through dark hollows.

 arise and

stay clear of the closing doors.

Subway Poem # 19

trapped in thoughts

contained on a train

the rush

through underground

though thoughts rush faster 

scattered through my brain

while streets above me

lie swept with lights

like a jewel box spilled

i move beneath Christmas

among the throng

Subway Poem # 18

Judgement Day

the empress boards the car

walking stick her sovereign staff

hair a mass of moused grey coils reaching out

she takes her orange throne

surveying all who surround her

slyly she catches an eye here and there

a medusa gazing over morning commuters

 sucking on a mint

and with a grimace

judging

then a dismissive sneer

one at a time

then off with their stone heads 

before the next stop 

Subway Poem # 17

Exhibitionists

unflattering light.
we stare at one another
then look away, take note of poker faces
caught off guard,
fashion faux pas,
thumbnail impressions
of expressions,
suddenly all laid bare
in the glowering glare.
we sit to be seen.

Subway Poem # 16

Surreality

early morning subway dreamers, 

drowsy subway coffee thinkers

disembark: destinations known and not, 

crossing platforms

as electronic voices repeat,

"have a nice day!
have a nice day!
have a nice day!"

Poetry Corner 8/30/12

Two poems this time: the 15th poem in my Subway series and one totally unrelated to subway matters:

Subway Poem #15:

Linear Choreography

we're at the mad ball

in a whirl

moving fast

the man in blue blazer

walks up, confronts, looks at me

in a frozen second

then we step aside,

pass by, move on

to anonymous partner after partner

repeating the steps

we walk towards one another

then dart past

without missing a beat, a step,

never stopping

in linear choreography --

aggression, 

seduction, 

self absorption,

we tease that we are one 

then sunder

to the thunder of the train,

preparing to leave the platform dance

 

The Snow Queen

It was so warm inside,

stoked fireplace.

Outside, it snowed.

Through the bay window I could see my Mother

buried beneath blankets

near a wood pile.

She's cold, I told my Father,

We need to get her inside.

I'll carry her in.

I need you to hold open the door.

Your Brother isn't here to help, he said.

I'm too old and it's too cold at the door.

And so I sat at the window,

watched it snow,

re-imagining my plans.