Night Walk Down a Narrow Street
— Don’t confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them
-Jackson Brown
On cobblestone under moonlight
away from all
the chilling babble I navigate
with my slippery
imagination as I conjure one rough
gemstone of tourmaline
a faded page in a favorite book
I've not read in a while
My long-missing friend always
forcefully insisting
I was avoiding the last best image
clearly available
beyond my hesitant reach
The Way of It
There will be cruel edicts. A feral rumpus
will ensue. Next, a timeless
span of mystical
retreat, much lament,
a deep ache.
The air will be thick. Steel gray. Not one
owl or possum or bear
to be found. No tree, no rock, no sky.
Voices will whisper, “What
can we do?” When
the voices fade
there will be jazz.
An Art Tatum Quartet, playing
“Where or When”
Tatum will glance
over his shoulder, find
within the blue haze
of cigarette smoke, one pale
friend or two at a table
back near a warm
white wall and know
where everyone has gone.
Bionote
Michael Carrino is a 1971 SUNY Plattsburgh graduate and retired English lecturer from the State University College at Plattsburgh, New York. He was co-founder and poetry editor of the University’s literary journal, Saranac Review and a long-time reader for Inanna Press, Toronto, Canada. His publications include Some Rescues, (New Poets Series, Inc.) Under This Combustible Sky, (Mellen Poetry Press), Café Sonata, (Brown Pepper Press), Autumn’s Return to the Maple Pavilion (Conestoga Press), By Available Light (Guernica Editions), Always Close, Forever Careless (Kelsay Books), Until I’ve Forgotten, Until I’m Stunned (Kelsay Books), In No Hurry (Kelsay Books), and soon to be published, Natural Light (Kelsay Books), as well as individual poems in numerous journals and reviews.
I had not forgotten them
-Jackson Brown
On cobblestone under moonlight
away from all
the chilling babble I navigate
with my slippery
imagination as I conjure one rough
gemstone of tourmaline
a faded page in a favorite book
I've not read in a while
My long-missing friend always
forcefully insisting
I was avoiding the last best image
clearly available
beyond my hesitant reach
The Way of It
There will be cruel edicts. A feral rumpus
will ensue. Next, a timeless
span of mystical
retreat, much lament,
a deep ache.
The air will be thick. Steel gray. Not one
owl or possum or bear
to be found. No tree, no rock, no sky.
Voices will whisper, “What
can we do?” When
the voices fade
there will be jazz.
An Art Tatum Quartet, playing
“Where or When”
Tatum will glance
over his shoulder, find
within the blue haze
of cigarette smoke, one pale
friend or two at a table
back near a warm
white wall and know
where everyone has gone.
Bionote
Michael Carrino is a 1971 SUNY Plattsburgh graduate and retired English lecturer from the State University College at Plattsburgh, New York. He was co-founder and poetry editor of the University’s literary journal, Saranac Review and a long-time reader for Inanna Press, Toronto, Canada. His publications include Some Rescues, (New Poets Series, Inc.) Under This Combustible Sky, (Mellen Poetry Press), Café Sonata, (Brown Pepper Press), Autumn’s Return to the Maple Pavilion (Conestoga Press), By Available Light (Guernica Editions), Always Close, Forever Careless (Kelsay Books), Until I’ve Forgotten, Until I’m Stunned (Kelsay Books), In No Hurry (Kelsay Books), and soon to be published, Natural Light (Kelsay Books), as well as individual poems in numerous journals and reviews.
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