ART POSTCARDS
Art postcards added
in a sliding trunk
moves the Bacon
Gainsborough,
and Mexico's Orozco,
toward my hands
as summer goes brown
taking my weekend leave
for a modernist retrospective
now held in New York,
an artist up the walk
took me for a four hour
tour of palpable art,
bringing the Big Apple
back to me
through slides,audio
in a visual perspective
launching me
in memory of Village Days
of O'Hara and Rivers,
along Saturday traffic jams
with my sax kept
on my lap in taxis
my poems in parcels
drifting off in my one acts
off off Broadway
thinking there is
no mortality in art
feeling again free and young
resurrected with a breath
of ideas and idealism
encircling with my suitcases
full of pawned rhythm
and a smooth jazzy time
weeping on a tree
in Central Park
in Central Park
where I played kick ball.
Hiding in the Big Apple under
the rainy windshield wipers
in 1999 as a century changes
here in a taxi
waiting for another sax player
its time for my jazz space
to expand
playing riff's new revels
as the door is ajar
we traffic jam
going to my gig
rawboned until midnight
striking the blues
and bathed by song.
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