The marching parade presses onward
faces, encircling around a beach
up the stairs, down Parkway Avenue
Racing against daylight.

Acrobats, clowns, and elephants one by one, 
clothed in flamboyant, aged garments
wrappings, hats, jewels 
snickering, and chattering madly

I can't glean if they catch my gaze from afar,
on this curved bike seat 
a crooked expression and a toasted
everything bagel, or if they are looking straight through me.

I'm too dull to be in a yellow jumpsuit
I'm too emanated to revisit here
to fly a line, the loud teasing of a
squawking bird reminding me of a primeval time.

Muddled and exhausted, I collapse to 
the grains of sand below my toes
and pillow a pile for my head,
resting in the warmth of the sunlight

I sing to my self a song of silence
my mouth, babbling rearwards 
wielding every breath and sigh as the
parade keeps winding by.


  1. Somehow I find myself moving slowly forward.
    I cannot comprehend the magic in your eyes.
    Somewhere beyond the the floating balloons,
    past the one wheeled figurines....

    Your heart lies there, hidden beneath the meadow's flowers. Blooming in the sun.

  2. Did you write that? Beautiful. I adore your artistic talents. And you, of course.