He laughed lazily in a sunbeam

Shining decently on his forehead

It made him seem golden, golden

Like the laugh he loved to release.

It was autumn and the leaves colored

His day with shades of yellow again.

He laughed at the autumn leaves

And seemed golden under them.

The lady nearby asked the man

What he was doing, laughing alone.

With sincere glee he said to her:

“Because I enjoy it here.”

She walked away, moody, disturbed,

Wondering about the golden man.

In her daydreams she saw yellow

Streaks falling like light-beams

As they struck a figure laughing,

Alone to himself under the sun.

Why was he laughing so loudly?

“Because I enjoy it here,” he said.

She sat on her porch in a chair

That rocked back and forth with

A cup of coffee in her hand, resting.

The solitude and loneliness warmed

Her soul

And she laughed, too, like the golden man did.


above or below

they’re sitting in the basement rooftops

of sky-high-scrapers built ten times taller than

the Empire State and then some, I haven’t measured

fifty-three million tons of concrete under their

asses and fifty-three million more above them

somewhere soaring rapid in waves of sound,

rays of light below the sun, moon, and gloomy stars,

everything below something else, everything

above or beneath each other, except the

Empire State.