The Search

We are the lost who have

climbed hillsides…gathering

innumerable and unnamed

stumbling over sharp rocks

searching for our long shadows.

Tracing darkness with

vagrant fingertips

tasting the disdain of dust

we are long shadows

moaning with open mouths.

Eating bitter food grown

on the wrong side of this moon

our hearts caged in fear

fearing we have been cast off

fearing we have no destination.

Sands burning our feet

whipping our unnamed faces

we are long shadows crossing

this dessert longing for

an end to our thirst.

We are losing our shadows

entering empty caves

now listening for echoes

now finding wells of memories

innumerable and unnamed.

Landing

A plane crashed on 

Sterling Place 

Brooklyn. 1960

128 passengers 

& six on the 

ground. Dead 

Couldn’t believe it. 

My friend, Arlene 

lived nearby. Worried

Got off the bus

walked over & saw 

a plane. Overwhelmed

Smell of burning 

aircraft as black 

soot hung in the air. Unreal

Part of a big gray

plane taking over an

entire crosswalk. Gloom

December 16^th

how could any joy be 

found in these hard…streets?

Both15 years old

& Arlene was okay.

We shook our heads.

What’s next?