A. B. MEADOWS

TWO POEMS ACCOMPANYING TWO PAINTINGS BY UTE HARING
 
 

Cityscape

surfaces made of glass
rising high
               into the sky
some want them glossy and shiny
but they are SCRATCHED, SCRATCHED
like a sky tortured by jet-propelled planes
When the mist disperses
the clouds give way
the darkness wanes
the darkness
gives way to light
and there, right and left
you may turn on that square
you are there
and before you
they still rise
glossy and shiny
TOWERING ROCKS OF ICE
WITH THEIR MYRIADS OF LIES
humming, drumming inside
telling us everything's right

And then, one afternoon
you come back to the scene
you are no queen
everything is foreseen
and
people
people are
               people are
pedestrians
are crowds
are dissolving
are agglomerating
are lonely and loud
are not lonely and louder than loud
are a crowd
crowds of individuals
crowds of mingling individuals
moving moving
moving on
on, and on, and on

and
buildings
buildings are mirrors
milky and blue
milky and blue like the sky
blue and milky
like you & I

have a milkshake, says a sign
to your eye

full of light
muted light
alright
it's still afternoon
waiting for
the approaching night
it's around the next corner
with all its lights on -
right?
 
 

Stadtbild (Cityscape)
 
 
 

 March
 

                     March

                      I

  resurrected from Friday night's agony
Captain Bluebeard
   heading elsewhere
           out of town, you'd say
         looking for an endangered species
                     looking for a barman serving another whiskey
                                        to a drunk without his pants on
                              a proud drunk
                                entirely nude
                                    except for his captain's cap
 

heading home to his graveyard
        the drunken sailor
    looking for a ship
              ready to sail to Trafalgar Square
       there is no subway now
                         when all the entrances have been flooded
 

carrying suitcases filled with chinaware
   hurrying past knee-deep puddles
as if afraid they might drown in them
  you know this no way to meet strangers, in such Indian weather
      as they slouch along
             The porters are all gone
                 they have cocktails in the lobby
             or are on the look-out
                                              for alligators
 
 

                            II

on their way
on a rainy day
as the road is wet and shiny
under a silvery moon
See them all passing
see them hurry on
the guy from the cannery
travelers
people on the move
immigrants
shoppers with half empty bags
a sleepy kid dragged along
by her mother's arm
 

(Jan. 2007)