City Tree

A city tree
like a peasant indentured
with shackled feet
has no fair vision
of lofty heights climbing
or great girth gaining
to be hole-cut-through
and driven
on a picture postcard placed.
To the heavens
from its common root
Never shall it rise.

Yet, still
what pedestrian way
for itself is made
will overshade
in a great city
several hundred worlds
undreamt
by even the most ambitious
Sequoias.

Bends

Stone bends
Stainless steel bends
A group of Granite tombs all in a row bends
My house
has moods
It pulls apart with spider cracks
and chalky plaster wall bends

The City on my weary calloused shoulder makes me old bends
My back bends
in lumbar and chicken-bone bruise bends
My father, my mother - my whole damn family bends

Brick bends ya’ll and shipyards
Markets and monuments
Brass elephant bookends

The latest fall fashion
The fad
The Ever-Lasting Gobstopper
The Fool. The King. The Middleman.
in the trench coat
Bad job
Laid off
bends

The brass band bends
down unstraight streets
They play a sweet sadness
to the hips of the river

bends To The Beginning bends
the darkness
the dampness
the midnight silent moon bends
The Sun and daylight time bends
Pulse and Sweat and Breath
bends Straight to the End bends - always straight
To the deep and pleasant rest
Straight to the End
Amen Bends

David Utah Zarnitzky was born in Brooklyn, schooled in Manhattan, and
now resides in the Bronx with his wife and his dog. He has no plans for
any major life events to occur in either Queens or Staten Island. When
he has the time, he writes (mostly poetry) and teaches (mostly
writing). He often has time for neither. David is a life-long Yankees
fan.

Photo by Janna Washington.

Tags: bends city tree poem david zarnitzky
March 10, 2009 at 12:58pm ∞