Three Octets from Alberta St

samsara on alberta st octet

whoever painted the bus stop bench next to

7th had a bright yellow palette; hard not

to notice this, & heavenly bamboo’s red

growth as it stands up from black earth; the sidewalk’s

not exactly black though puddles are, at a

distance—then you see the gray sky in them like

a memory of light—the crow flies past me,

head high; hard to keep dying & coming back

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alberta st state of being octet

it's pleasant to wait & look at the raindrops

beading on the daphne leaves, its magenta

buds opening to white petals; heavenly

bamboo berries lend their scarlet gravity

to stems; across the street a red bicycle,

its basket filled with artificial flowers—

here a string of lights in the cherry, unlit,

its fruit the dangling plug; nowhere else to be

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alberta st state of becoming octet

to the left: utility pole’s transformers,

its wires forming angles; to the right the spire

& cross topping a Catholic church; between,

a half moon in blue sky, white bowl tipped, spilling—

three pairs of sneakers walk on air—another

direction—sun glows along cloud fringe, shines then

vanishes; three crimson heart balloons tied to

a street sign with white ribbon; home is that way

Jack Hayes

© 2017