Two Octets

albina ave octet

seeing that bamboo, the urge to say gracile
like a name; but tiki lamps rise up unlit

yet; white stucco storefront a blank page behind
the blue bus stop, black grillwork entrance open—

unintelligible moss scrawled up & down
the staircase climbing to a canopied door—

two crows sweep low from a cedar’s heavy boughs:
black frolic & speech down a side street, gone, gone

◦    ◦    ◦


interstate ave octet #4


a helping of uncooked ramen noodles strewn
across wet concrete for the avenue’s crows—

sardine tin spilling over rainwater on
the lawn’s fringe; spires of norfolk pines in back of

a barn red fence; right sneaker drenched through the sock,
hands crimson & tingling in jacket pockets—

black umbrella cast on the train station’s bricks:
another thing left behind in autumn rain


Jack Hayes
© 2016


11/1/16