Thursday, October 11

Neighborhood Observations: Sidewalk Poetry

I take walks in my neighborhood all the time. Lately I keep finding these short poems on the sidewalks. I am not sure who wrote them, when they were done, who put them on the sidewalk, what the purpose was, or what exactly they mean, but there are several all over in different streets. I think it's beautiful.

There's no place I'd rather be than here in this quiet common place where late morning sun meets the scent of concrete and cut grass stirring.
The sky fell on my toes and I was a fast runner.
Tonight in the dark kitchen only the stainless steel sink holds the moon.
She was steward of the smallest things: pair of dead bees in the windowsill, Santa ring cluster of elm seeds in their felted coils.
Evening Chores
When the door claps its frame the goat runs as if I were bringing the world instead of rotting squash. His strong teeth search me for me - gently, as if he could not bear to know that one world is all I have to feed him -
and one is not enough.
Bad Day  
  The red lid unscrewed from the jar of extra crunchy almost empty and the dull, mounded spoon half shoved in my mouth says it all - I don't want to talk.
Steal it. Go. Feed the rush.  Take off the throw, the catch, the slide. Safe.
Second Love He kissed the girl in the ballerina skirt. It was a long one- like the kiss- drenching her sneakers in tulle.
On a delicate pappus  you rose
Alighted on turf, seeming benign;
Locked into bed sick with pointed toes Stretched lemon head to the sun.
Hydra, you dodge the mower blade.
I whack you with a spade for fun. Pinel Senseless to fret.
I'll transmute gold locks into wine
And eat your children with vinaigrette. 

Maybe these poems were written by the person who left the foot prints here.


Kate T. said...

My street and sidewalk were just repaved, and now I'm so disappointed to have missed an opportunity to do something like this!

leonie wise said...

these are really beautiful, what a great find!

A M B E R said...

I have to wonder, was this part of the city's planning or did some artist/poet wait patiently for the construction crew to go home for the day, and sneak over with their poetic impression forms?