Arts + Scene » Poetry

Did the California fog bring you visions



did the California fog bring you visions and love
facing as far away from Brooklyn as an American can possibly be
your children thick with curls running in the wet sand squishy toes and starfish pools
(rows of invisible arms inside billowing bell shaped sleeves, saying come come come and be free)
I hear the subways rumble as the modern dancers run from their office desks to class
pulling off shoes and stockings, clothing in a heap pulling on loose pants tied at the waist and
hair twisted up with a clip tendrils ready to frame a sweat soaked face
these muscles have a memory the walking on the beach the wind rushing into our bones
the Pacific wind the same the same fluttering hammer pounding until I ran into dance studios
on the west side a river there moving below us hammering like the magnetic heart of the west coast
of this endless country calling calling — the red bridge. the red trees, the red sun in the red sea — oh,
there must be a mistake, it is all blue green and gray here — the red of blood gone from me now, the
dance steps drumming in my ears, my arms curve soft I can stretch like before because that is slow and
that is easy. Gray, Blue, Green.

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