IN THE LONDON BASEMENT
In my old London basement
apartment with hallways
of jazz riffs and readings
those days of sunshine
when leaves turn a blush red
after a night music of love
and letters arrive
from an unknown city
saying my poems
about the sea
have moved you
by a now known name
and picture
from a kinetic light.
ALONG THE SEINE
Human feelings
with overwhelming sentiment
in the December rainy days
of your last red rose hat
in French chapeaus
listening to Dusty Springfield
at Christmas music shadows
you put on for us in a festival
for a feel easy show's rehearsal
in Paris and London.
STOPPING
Stopping at the traffic light
slowing down
as my breaks tie me up
near the East Side
near a monotone bird
on the dusty apartment roof
over a bygone cinema
when Laurence Olivier's films
played in roles he made immortal
with the memory of old loves
and Sixties girlfriends
in arguments over Beatles' music
yet halfway up the steps
driving in the grey dusk
of my jazz rehearsals
this building brings me
back again
wanting to relive
these throbs in my dry throat
by nests of bird calls
of an unsettled past.
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