Monday, March 7, 2011

The Other Side of Night

The dawn begins it's periwinkle intrusion

on the windowsill,

a dull canvas of light slowly brightening

as Brooklyn springs to life,

after another deserted Bushwick night

punctured by rain and people

with soaked purpose

willing to brave it now giving way

to those pounding the damp streets

toward enslavement or those not caring

where the hours or days went,

our modern mainstay,

but anything's better than being a pensive penitent

enshrouded in a tent of regret.