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avenue b

 




day pulls

a blanket

over

its head


the dark tent

fills

with the sound

of wild things


ghost stories

glow amber


a match

ignites

a cigarette

 

 

there are only 46 trees

on avenue b

 

 

i fold my coat

in intricate patterns


make promises

to the empty sky


and a bed

out of my bones

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Comments

1 - 29 of 29
  • judyjudyjudy
    November 8, 2007
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    it's minimalist

    but manages to say a lot.


  • X-Trane
    September 4, 2007
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    Cool

    I dig that, alphabet city, polish diners and 46 trees, i can smell it now ;-)


  • Catressa gold member
    August 27, 2007

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    why am I suddenly filled with the need for fall?
    Great.. I have been wanting it but reading this really kicked it in..

    I'm just glad you walk slow enough to count..


  • Redstormy gold member
    August 6, 2007
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    God I Love this

    Not much to say other than Damn good write my friend.


  • liltandrhyme silver member
    August 5, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Al,

    This had echoes Tom Waits, a poetic portrayal of a down-and-out denizen of the night, patrolling a much walked territory 'There are only 46 trees on Avenue B', observing shady sights and the 'sound of wild things'

    The image in the final stanza was superb, the coat folded 'in intricate patterns', the forlorn promises made 'to the empty sky' before settling for the night in a bed of bones.

    Excellent write!

    PJ

  • garde a l eau
    August 5, 2007

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    A bed out of bones, coat folded intricately (like a flag?), ghost stories, ashes...avenue b seems like a boulevard in hell, stark and deadly. I had a feeling the trees were out of place, the only living things (and numbered) of any solace at all, and perhps the shadows they cast weren't.


  • truembrace
    August 4, 2007

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    this is just as strong (stronger actually) each time I read it. is that possible when a poem seems to perfect from the beginning...


  • jantastic gold member
    August 3, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    .


  • grannyeri gold member
    August 3, 2007

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    Think many have a street or avenue like this in their cities - one that they shouldn't really be walking down unless they live there - and even then only in the day time. You share this place, your thoughts and in so few words. Liked the brevity of the lines, the flow and the images you apint with your words. Some mundane things become important in these places - we count to get through...


  • NoIQ gold member
    August 2, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    When my sister first moved to Manhattan in the early 80s, she was considering a flat in the Alphabets on Avenue B. My parents and I decided to go and check out the possible location. While it is now somewhat gentrified, back then it was anything but. I was terrfied. We followed a Hell's Angel for a block, before heading back into safer territory. It's funny, though. When I told my sister about the Hell's Angel and how hairy the walk had been, she commented "That was probably the best person in the world to have walking ahead of you." So, I asked why. And of course she (correctly) answered "Because instead of watching you and Mom and Dad, everyone was watching him."

    I was just in NYC and arrived back here in the Bay area yesterday. I am glad you found a way to make me think of my recent visit in imagic terms that called to mind a part of the city familiar to me. Excellent stuff here Al.


  • Centricity
    July 31, 2007
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    Yeah, yeah.

    Are there really only 46 trees on Avenue B, or are you taking poetic license again?


    • Centricity
      July 31, 2007
      Edit | Reply
      Also, this is terrible. Horrible. No good. Give up poetry forever, my love, and just move to an island in the Pacific. I'll hang a hammock for you 'neath the palmy trees; their fingers will cool the fever of your pen.

  • April Renee
    July 31, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    only 46 trees on avenue b.

    sheesh. thats just awesome. maybe its me and my on going search for the hope in every little thing..but this seems hopeful and peaceful and appreciative. nicely penned. enjoyed the read.

    blu


  • Zayra Yves
    July 30, 2007
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    Fabulous Al.


  • boilerjim
    July 30, 2007

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    Creative but cryptic

    It seemed maybe too regional for me. I really liked the imagery and metaphor of .."The day....really good stuff. Then I got dumb or lost. Thanks for the thoughts and words.
  • Billy Campbell
    July 30, 2007
    Edit | Reply

    Great

    I enjoy the description of avenue b; because they are not overdone they come to life in my mind’s eye. The only thing that I am not sure about are the line breaks, some of them work as in:

    ghost stories

    glow amber


    a match

    ignites

    a cigarette

    Also I love this detail:

    there are only 46 trees

    on avenue b
    Overall it works very well.


  • Rowan gold member
    July 29, 2007

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    you always bring a moment to crystal clarity..makes me look at things differently, and inspires me.
    Excellent.


  • ellipsist
    July 29, 2007

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    wow... not overly wordy...

    not too complex... a rather simple statement in this relatively short piece... straightforward and the imagery and words all point the same direction...

    monotony has never sounded quite this appealing to me before...


  • Whoochi gold member
    July 29, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Ahhh...yes! The mundane motions of are very patterned life, yet is it empty or just filled with the monotony of everyday things...it is over 3 speed bumps in the road and a canal of 2 miles on my run in the morning...and before I shower..I put my running shoes in the closet, telling myslef I will make that 1 mile mark in 4 mins...the emptiness, the promises...What a beautiful somehow lonely poem...reminds me of a poetry reading in a streetside cafe...Love it..as I do ALL your poems...


  • Cat gold member
    July 29, 2007
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    you should write poetry

    (for a living i mean)

    m


  • NurseChilly gold member
    July 29, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    ahhh... yes, it's a bit like counting ceiling tiles in a doctor's surgery...

    that inane way we look at our lives and how we do those funny things... like counting trees and finding ways to fasten coats and to mutter and mumble to ourselves about this and that and nothing, nothing of course nothing

    there are 5 lampposts from my front door to the corner shop...

    yeppp

    i know these little quirks

    very well done Al..


  • Night Hope gold member
    July 28, 2007

    Edit | Reply

    This is exquisite penning, Al...especially the last 6 lines. Wow. Wanda


  • mantis180
    July 28, 2007
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    This is fantastic...

  • Arzab
    July 28, 2007

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    Beautiful write. I liked the first and second lines the best. It seemed like a great metaphorical way of describing day turning to night and the sounds that can come with the night like the hoots of owls. Keep up the great work.


  • Jersene silver member
    July 28, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    Excellent, and beautifully written. I like the reflective voice in this.

  • Yvette Champ
    July 28, 2007

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    Wonderfully written,the reader is imagining a 46 year old man genuflecting on what was,what is and what may or may not come to pass the lid of eye,even when promised to the self when no one else was/is listening,particularly liked making a bed out of my bones,it reminded me of the old adage"you've made your bed now you have to lay in it" Bravo.


  • Grunts Girl
    July 28, 2007

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    there is such beauty here... and yet.. my mind is so soiled...
    i can only see the people i have to deal with on my job in this...how avenue b could be 79th street in my district
    that glow... not a beautiful fire to warm themselves by since its miami... but the groups of crack smoking addicts that speak of stories from their former selves... the ghosts of who they once were... and yet they all laugh and say "well fuck, if mom could see me now"...or the crack head mental patient... those are always lovely

    then just simply the man who sleeps among the trash within someone elses old possessions..

    and then i stop and think of just a normal man down on his luck just walking... and he walks past those wild things that i have stopped on the circle k
    lol

    sometimes it is so hard for me to find beauty and truth in anything anymore... one of the reasons i love to read ....
    interesting how things are interpreted by the readers and where you took me was familiar and yet when i stop and think outside of my job...
    back to more beautiful times of simplicity.... there is this there too

    sorry for the ramble..



  • Nicolette gold member
    July 28, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    "fills with wild things"....that is so beautiful and it fills my eye with all kinds of images. This poem is wonderful, Al...filled with so many colours and sounds, yet somehow an emptiness resides here too. Stunning poetry.

    ~ Nicolette

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