Showing posts with label botanic garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label botanic garden. Show all posts

Thursday, September 5, 2013


I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,
With the odds of success about one in ten,
Is it time to re-think what my methods have been?

I’ve tried it before,
And I'll try it some more!
Sooner or later I’ll settle the score.

Remember that time when it all seemed to work?
Obsessing, regressing, and going berserk?
It's bound to recur, or was it a quirk?

It will all be OK if I have my way!
Maybe I’ll rant and maybe I’ll pray,
But whatever I do, I will have my say!


red flower 20130802-IMG_0929.jpg
red flower

Sunday, August 11, 2013

La Bocca della Verità sotto Brooklyn

As we New Yorkers know too well, many people attempt to leap over turnstyles and crash through alarmed gates (SCREEEECH) to obtain free access to the New York Subway system. Well, Brooklyn has had enough! A posse of Anonymous Toll Collectors has recovered the dreaded Brooklyn Mouth of Truth and installed it near the access to the Brooklyn Museum and Botanic Garden Station.

As many of you know, a Mouth of Truth confiscates the hand,  foot, or at least the sleeve and cuff of any person attempting to perpetrate a fraud while drawing near to the Dreaded Slot. 

How, you may ask, does one seduce a subway fare thief to stick anything into such a thing as the Mouth? Well!  This Mouth has been equipped with an original Star Trek patented Tractor Beam! 

Be very careful.

la bocca della veritas brooklyn.jpg
La Bocca della Verità (Brooklyn)

Friday, August 9, 2013

Of Furnished Rooms & Clouded Doorways

Harsh lights gritty sidewalks, squeaking grating doorways,
Metal glass chrome doors, decals pealing and maybe a bell,
Hard to remember where I left those cut-up dreams.
I let one go the other day, just a crumple and a toss and a "So what now?"
There’s another one around the corner, right?

Dim-lit yellow hallways, bathroom down the hall,
Shredded carpet, bruised and dirty,
Don’t even think about the paint.
A single cot, thin mattress, square table made with wood,
That single bulb hanging on to a cord.
There in the corner, I saw the crumpled might-have-been.
Missed the rusted basket; poor shot.
I walked out with it, of course
I should have left it there along with the rest of the picture.

Instead I spread it out on an ironing board,
Ink worn through and faded, edges broken and frayed,
But maybe it could have been salvaged.

I think I see a painted house, light green, and a stoop.
There’s a bay window, I remember now, pink reflected in the window pane,
Something’s on the window ledge, I think it's a little cat.
And a hose out front. Yes, I see it now,
A hose and a sidewalk, straight to the curb and down to the puddled street.
Not much of a yard, but a sprinkler!
You know, it could have done with a watering can.

I keep it with me now, after paying all that attention.

Anyway you never know.

Brooklyn Botanic Garden, August 2013