Sidewalk Poetry

While out for a run this morning I came across several poems etched into the sidewalks of our neighborhood. I’ve seen them before but this time I stopped to read (a good excuse for a breather, among other things!). I thought I’d post them as this week’s poetry, as they seem somehow perfect for a summer weekend’s read.

There is something so utterly delightful about someone taking the time, while laying sidewalk, to prepare or find poetry prints to leave behind, little encouragements to surprise the unsuspecting jogger. And I think it takes a certain kind of poem to make it, quite literally, on the streets: short, to the point, usually with a word play or two or capturing a poignant, even sharp, feeling.

I know there are more in our neighborhood, though I didn’t have the wind today to keep running and find them all. 🙂 If I find them later this summer I’ll put them up, and if you come across some, email them to me and I’ll post those as well. Thanks! And enjoy your weekend.

I wanted to tell you the name of the street
where I crashed my bicycle, got my best scar
or how I went walking at sunrise
to see dawn’s great evacuation of stars.
There must be some method, when two people meet
to explain to each other who we really are.

Play me a song, Trumpet Man
Sorrow sings deep in my bones
I ache to feel it out loud
Wail, Trumpet Man
Drown this city in brassy tears
Beat in my blood
Pump the anger and hurt out my heart
Wash it away in the slippery sewer
Swirl it down in your long last note.

Second Love

He kissed the girl
in the ballerina skirt.
It was a long one–
like the kiss–
drenching her sneakers
in tulle.