Sea glass

Sea glass
Copyright Jack Galmitz, 2015
New York, New York

Sea glass

Jack Galmitz

Sea glass
on the shelf
randomness

Scribbling in my form
the fractions of the clouds
in the predawn

In my neighborhood
there's no body of water
except me

The city
where I was born is gone
I tramp on

It gets dark early

still.... I'm glad to be
a living being

following the veins

of a leaf
to the street

Streetlamps and stars

we learn
from before

Looking at myself
in the store window
there's a fat old man

Starlings burst
from a leafless tree
a song in a dream

Apartment buildings
covered with graffiti
a new city

Outlines of buildings
in a photograph at night
& that tiny light

A rock my pillow
the moonlight my lamp
leaves flapping about

Overnight snow
crooked lines protruding
with shadows

The sky
a blanket of snow
before it snows

Rusted nails hammered

in a white painted board
thin slanted shadows

I charged the tree

and brought it down
it's warm in my house

Did the tree choose to be

or are its branches
latencies

An empty grain bin

a man and a woman
and nothing between

is it
a cry or a sound
the biting wind

I like factories
squat buildings belching smoke
but I hate lunch trucks

Christmas Eve
The tinsel on the parking lot fence
is barbed wire

Uprooted fig trees

razed villages
the bulldozer is to blame

Weep for Khlebnikov

his Radio of the Future
was murdered

Praise Avraamov
his Symphony of Factory Sirens
recorded the end of history

A miner's pick
found in a man's brain
on an x-ray

The drifts of snow

slow our movements down
dressed in space suits