the sound of no hands clapping: haiku

empty chair
rolling down the hill
offering a place to sit

a boy dribbles a basketball
and licks ice cream
in the cold air

this is a gray ohio sky
i am seeing today
over new york city

the gowanus canal
is somehow buckeye lake
and i'm on my grandpa's pontoon

gulls are lifted
to unusual heights
by the tantrums of the wind

the smoke from the fac-
tory rises, tiny against
the ocean of clouds



windows are necessary
to the soft eyes
in the office tower

the old man hugs himself
walking through the wind

his metal cane pushes
against the hill
the hill holds him up

she pulls luggage
down pineapple street
she'll meet the moon
in puerto rico


the wind smacks
into the sun
on the side of
the chrysler building

orange price tags stick
to the purple flowers

apples are piled
in the cold brooklyn air
200 miles from home


sparks flying from
her ponytail
gently struck by the wind


fuckin' a says
the russian man
the only english he needs

on his shoulder
he carries the heavy bag
of yesterday's trash


lost in the wind
two boys with minds
holding the same kiss

new york has been in my eyes
for 400 days and nights
my first 25 years remain
captured in ohio




i go walking
the moon is left behind
on the pillow in my bedroom

a bike stranded against a rack
heavy chain around
where it's wheel used to be

every minute I am roaming for love
after the sun goes down
i walk my favorite sidewalks


pink hearts are taped
to the glass cabinet
my heart looks nothing like them

the tuna swims
through the frozen ocean
of the refrigerator

the street is tired
of bearing our footsteps
it splits itself into chunks



the man in the traffic signal
is made of circles
of white light
he is slapped away
by a red hand


a sky with no birds
a park with no squirrels
i have nothing to say


lights hang from an ever-
green in tompkins square
a streetlamp shares itself
on the leaves of a maple

the stoplight rises to red
a man is trapped
on the corner with himself

in mekas' film archives
a little train of pictures
is pulled through the light


in a blue aquarium
somewhere in the city
an octopus rests



i read on the train
next to me the rabbi
runs his finger
moves his lips
across the torah

trembling hands shake
each other and steady them-
selves on mugs of beer


the stagnant green water
has abandoned its imi-
tation of a river

the first snow of the year
walks me home
the whole world is ice cream!