Silk City

I didn't mean to post this poem.  I'm not sure it's done but I did want to be able to post work that was in the process.

Silk City
 

There’s nothing special about a red wheel barrel.

We try to make it so

but it isn’t all that special;

rain drips from it

big deal.

That scenery is dreadful,

but maybe that’s just cuz

I’m thinking of Paterson now

not Williams’ Paterson of the 20’s & 30’s.

Now, to think of a red wheel barrel

           in Paterson,

it would have to be hidden

amongst other forgotten metal clutter,

car fenders,

         broken sinks,

                   a dilapidated tire.

Now, to see a red wheel barrel in Paterson

the fact its redness could still be noticed

among the trash—

the garbage strewn in the gutter;

that one could even focus enough

to see a red wheel barrel

while the music blares out of people’s cars,

screams out their windows,

 curtains seem to wave the notes out

the 2^nd story apartment

above a bodega. 

If I could find and see a red wheel barrel

thru all that cacophony

of  any American city,

that’s seen its better days

—that’s beautiful.