the subway rises
from the mouth
of darkness
pulling cars across
metal track
to the top
of the mountain
the skyline
like a picture
postcard
at sunset
a symphony
at full tilt
a mass of steel
and glass
thousands
of lighted squares
and twinkling
red lights
reminds you
that this city
in its ebb and flow
was here before you arrived
and will remain long
after you are gone
(D James)
staring
out the window
watching the light change
bare trees
drag shadows
across gray
roof-tops
sunlight glints
off passing cars
the day goes on
with or without us
(D James)
my pen falls
from the table
into a dark shadow
kicking
to catch it
with the side
of my shoe
spinning
it skitters
into the light
much like my thoughts
on this deathly cold day
(D. James)
it could break,
a mind,
from the pressure
all those thoughts
of what I should
be doing
what I did
wrong
asking why
the grace and ease
so longed for
seeming far off
impossible
hoping
for change
and then
don’t want
the kind that arrives
realizing
finally
it is not an answer
I seek
but a way to live
to think thoughts
and take action
generate some
confidence
take some
responsibility
for my life
because if I don’t
who the hell will
(D. James)
out the kitchen window
the late afternoon light
plays like a sax solo
against the building
across the way
cloud wisps
catch pink
as the sun hits
the horizon
the azure sky
goes darker
by degrees
evening comes
stealth and still
like a beautiful lover
passionate, intense
another night
lies ahead
awaiting the dawn
(D. James)
bird
on a wire
comes with
the morning
light
chirps
then flits
away
sign of
a good
day
(D. James)
The sunlight blinds
but you look anyway
reflecting
off the tabletops
creating an illusion
the gentlest
of winter afternoons
the violent dying light
pierces your eye
as a reminder
of summer
yet no matter
how hard you stare
you cannot make
the season change
nor the sun
shine less
(D. James)
The last hour
of summer sunlight
golden and clean
makes everyone
beautiful
Filtered through haze
softer
than the light
at noon
Similar to the dawn
but more powerful
for its proximity
and promise
of nightfall
Feel the final hour
of the day
and hope
for many more
(D. James)
How far down
do you go
before you find
the bottom of your soul?
How deep is it,
how wide?
And why is there no light down here?
(D. James)
