NaMoPoWriMo, Again

While I haven't been writing a poem-a-day, or writing from prompts, the spirit, like pheromones in the room, have encouraged me to, if not at least to write (what I do anyways), but to publish the pitiful drafts this month.  Here's one from last Friday.  Another "first I do this, then I do that" poem.

GOOD FRIDAY ART WALK

Tom Whalen is sitting on a bench on Broadway

with his dog, & I sit down next to him.

I tell him I have met his daughter & his wife

but have never met him.  He doesn’t answer.

It’s Friday, both “Good” & “First”, so folks

are walking around looking at “Art.”  I talk

to Chris about Buddhism, photos, water & wine.

Uptown, on Lark St., “The Heart was Made

to Be Broken” is for sale at the UAG, & I

meet Lacy growing into her beauty as I watch.

There are babies in backpacks & twitching men

in wheelchairs & beat-off art on the top floor

of the Romaine Brooks Gallery on Hudson Ave.

Tom doesn’t tell me what he knows, but I

suspect his silence is only sculptural.