bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-30 10:36 pm
Entry tags:

apad 30

We are alone but not.
We overlap, each of us
with another or another
like the words of a poem
about the City.

The City which grows
more itself as we grow
within each other the
City which is your
mother, your lover
your the City
which is part of you
and you a part of
the heart of the CIty
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-29 09:40 pm
Entry tags:

apad 29

Listen to the rumble
of an angry moon
a lone motorcycle,
headlight vibrating
from the engine
the uneven bricks
street glistening
from an evening rain
revealing the
branches of thick
trees lining like lovers
the blossoms
sweet, heavy,
innocent. for now.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-28 07:56 pm
Entry tags:

apad 28

Let us go then, said the woman who has
eyes the colour of Mozart and hands that
look like they are about to touch the past
yet again in the morning of our
discovery that the City moves and yet
floats unmoving and the memories
of a woman whose age, like the City,
floats without growing old , only growing
more and more in the soft light of
dawn as she prepares to go.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-27 06:50 pm
Entry tags:

apad 27

This city has pigs
flying pigs. They hover
along the riverbanks.

It is April and this city
has trees bearing fruit
words, dripping and dancing
in syllables from the branches

It is April and outside the library
the poet tree offers its fruit
of phrases for free.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-26 07:00 pm
Entry tags:

apad 26

Streets full of people being
nudges and shoved from
wave after wave of
thrusting rain combined
with hail pounding away

the afternoon sounds
are overhwhelmed
bu thunder and lightning.
A reminder that no
matter how many cities
we build those
cities still exist
on Nature's sufference
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-25 08:29 pm
Entry tags:

apad 25

They have fenced in the site
to keep the past safe inside
or the future out and away or
perhaps to stop them from
blending like ex-lovers
meeting one last time
passions meeting like
sunrise over the ocean.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-24 06:07 pm
Entry tags:

apad 24

He whispers to himself
walking down the street
listening to the cadence of
his feet, of everyone's feet
like sound bytes following
him from his computer.

She whispers to herself
walking down the street
part of her deconstructing
the streets and the people
that she passes by
intol infinite pixels

They pass each other every day
whispering each other's
secret name.

(for those unaware,  means home)
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-23 11:21 pm
Entry tags:

apad 23

One thing poets and politicians have in common
to start a subject with "I had a dream"
I had a dream, no.

Dear City I rode in the first time on a
bus when they still smelled
like dead dinosaurs in the dead of night.
But I was wide awake because the
City is no dream, nor nightmare but
the sounds and smells and grit
of reality

power is so much more intense when
felt with the breaths of life.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-22 08:07 pm
Entry tags:

apad 22

Is there a game tonight?

What I want to say..
A Game? Lady, this is
the City where all of life
is a game within a game.

games about names
about fames about

the passions
rations of feeling
or reeling with abandon

money, being funny growing
to the best or the worst
First in the dreams
screams unknown
thrown because in the end
even when we do not know
about it there is The Game

Yes m'am, the Reds are playing tonight.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-21 08:12 pm
Entry tags:

apad 21

Over the years the City has blended
outward through the hills,
old homes next to new homes and
the Past comes and goes like
temporal tides of some body of water
unknown and unseen.
Across the hills bricks, rocks,
concrete cover what was
or might have been.

bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-20 07:37 pm
Entry tags:

apad 20

Gene Kelly may sing in the rain, but
here in the City where JustSpring
has come carried along the river
by rising temperatures and
sunlight that comes with light
and bright smiles

Here the City uncovers
a choreography with the
conversations, gestures
dancing bodies alive and
moving within the
movements and the words

Summer may drain but
for now the streets are
alive and dancing life
word by word by word.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-19 07:59 pm
Entry tags:

apad 19

The office workers and the tourists
do not see the Saint of Vine Street
coat upon coat, like secret powers
one sock up and one down,

She scuffles in a slow, slow dance
with the concrete, a prayer for
those who see the Saint of Vine Street
and smile at her in understanding.

a crumb for the pigeons a candy
for the invisible children so like her.
she who has nothing manages
to give so much on the streets

where the office workers and the tourists
do not see the Saint of Vine Street.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-18 08:16 pm
Entry tags:

apad 18

The City is a cornucopia of buildings.
Old, New, Skyscrapers almost finished
and early 19th Century homes.
Even the newest of buildings have
ghosts of a sort inside them while
the oldest wait for new thoughts and
dreams to enter.

The City is. We are all the CIty.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-17 06:31 pm
Entry tags:

apad 17

If you stand perfectly still, this short walk from the river
you can hear the echoes., the past heartbeats of the city.
Wolves padding quietly and then howling at the chase,
Shawnee turni gg their head sharply at the sound of
a tree falling from one last swing of an axe, saws and
sharp tools bringing a home to last by the shores.

People shouting along the river, their wares onboard
the steaming ships, the flatboats, the loads of
pigs and oats, lumber, whiskey, slaves
to and from, up river down river a steady flow of
a City's life being created.

The screaming of Irish hate over the draft, Confederates
moving silent through the crows as the flames lick through
the buildings the sounds of paradox in the bright haze.
The long low belching of the trains rattling along
the burnished tracks without stop

The sound of the wagons moving slowly up and down
the streets, the heritage of plague to flu looking for
the dead, the long lined shuffle two decades later
from the jobless, the homeless, the hopeless.

And then the trains again, duets with the first
large engine planes and the flood of monochrome
passengers, olive or white the child-men on their
way to make a world, unmake a world,
survive the sounds and smoke of war.

Unlike past sounds the guitars crescendo the
counterpoint with the riots of this year, that year
the escalating of firearms and their sharp, strident
announcements and these are the echoes of the city

weaving around the sounds of engines and tires and
the soft, soft cooing of a pigeon before it
skitters away from a laughing child in the CIty.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-16 07:39 pm
Entry tags:

apad 16

Noon and the City is
awash with visitors,
as though this is some
huge family reunion.

The colour depends on
what sport is playing.
Threading their way the
visitors are the workers
the dreamers the
daisy chain of all the
bits and pieces that
make the city a home
and full of life.

bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-15 07:53 pm
Entry tags:

apad 15

There is something different about the city
when behind the wheel, windows rolled,
sounds muted if heard at all.

I remember 8mm films, bright colours
but no sounds as if the present in that
past was silent.

People, cars, birds buses, flags
snapping high above the street
birds playing with the flapping shadows.

I turn the radio on and turn
from station to station
until I find the city's soundtrack.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-14 09:21 pm
Entry tags:

apad 14

This block is for money and the suits,male
and female scurrying with hunger and belief

This block is for the dinners and the diners
and tasting of what money cooks

This block is for the music and the shows
that make the monied people feel ever so real

This block is full of ghosts. See
the buildings calcified, some with
windows some blind as blind can be
these are the real ghosts
the buildings of an older city.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-13 08:05 pm
Entry tags:

apad 13

colour upon colour
nations blending with
nations everything
blends the grey
of the buiildings
concrete and marble
overcoming the rainbows

This is how a city should be
a focus of its being and
the laughter and
colour upon colour because variety
is the true foundation.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-12 09:42 pm
Entry tags:

apad 12

The streets are metal and light off windows.
of cars bent around corners, trucks and
buses, horns and engines revving
iin artificial hunger and desire

It is sterile it is as
lifeless walls and sidewalks where

a small girl reaches for her mother's hand.
the girl chatters full of being four and the
chatter is so much laughter and the
mother smiles, the daughter smiles
and the smiles jump from
heart to heart
and here is where cities should start.
bardiphouka: (chair)
2016-04-11 07:38 pm
Entry tags:

apad 11

High overhead
the city, the world,
The Peregrines with brood
watch over their dominion.
the pigeons, blind and
oblivions to any
impending doom.
The starlings hoping
inside their dna that
their size means safety.
The Peregrines
watch over their dominion above
the concrete canyons
the crowless concrete canyons
that keep their kingdom theirs.
A dark shadow flys over head and the
feathers ruffle for a moment
high overhead
the city, the world