© Neil Enggist  2018                     HOME

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Poems written in NYC from late 2009 to 2011 on subway cars, bridges, river shores, museums, pubs and alleys. Through the window of the hungry city: aging oceans, lonely divinity, black moons, river bottoms, unborn colors, and songs of exile are recalled and laid away. The city turns the poet upside down, shakes out his words like coins; The poet renders the city unreal through active dreaming. Which is enduring / which becomes empty / which remembers which? With paintings and drawings made by the author.

Trains full of wondering

 

Tilt the bridges as

 

They bring the empty pages

 

Across the river again and

 

Again

 

I am tempted

 

To go to the room

 

Where the waves crash

 

 

 

Wait

 

Too many things

 

In the sky falling

 

Today

 

As I redream

 

Trying to disarm

 

The memory

 

Of you scratching away

 

My skin

 

 

 

Skinless I

 

Tell you

 

I have lost the colors

 

My Father once shown in the sky

 

Between two nights

 

The soul

 

The reason

 

I see

 

 

 

Too bold I’ve declared my freedom

 

Too heavy I’ve poured

 

Over the glass

 

And how rich

 

The home I left

 

Has become

 

 

 

Did I tell you?

 

The west coast of anything

 

Washes up my words

 

They come from you

 

Walking back

 

Across the water

 

They come from the sound of rain

 

Pleasuring the Earth

 

As you turn in your sleep

 

Away from the morning

 

Hearing just

 

Today’s bindings

 

Opening