jonas

By w. r. rodriguez

beyond the ocean
up the crooked strait
past hellgate
and little hellgate
and the kill
where the mainland of hill and marsh
butts the swirling tides
seven miles from civilization
and the muskets of new amsterdam
you buy land from sachem
and rent to sharecropper
so you have come mister bronk
to make a home
on the edge of the chaos of nature
where streams wind through uncleared wilderness
emmaus you call it
and there are trials and revelations
and wars
and patriotic native americans
burn farms to the green green ground
and the land passes away
to morris and his heirs
o you should see what is left of their tombstones
fading in saint ann's churchyard
in a valley of charred bronx tenements

triborough bridge

By w. r. rodriguez

where is everybody going
the best part of this bridge is the middle
between the blue heaven and swirling hellgate
here the wind murmurs through cables
and words are invisible
why must every polluted river be crossed
i savor the land for what it is
the primordial musk of the imagination
gone money mad
skyline of penthouse and project
life submerged behind tiny windows
like stars in the sleepless city night
o the homeless home beneath broad buttresses
beyond obscure shorelines
yes even humanity seems beautiful from a distance
green growth upon landfills
i can't see the sewage for the waves
the sanitation plant the abandoned asylum
where lunatics laughed at pedestrians
long gone the days of open windows
where i never walked
reality is an imposition
the manhattan psychiatric hospital
stares at my feet
wards island misfits
picnic beneath trees
if sanity permits
o the suicidal tides
the war memorial
on the astorian shore
the past is no more
the future is but the loss of the present
leap to the sky
i'll not fly
jump to the water
never to swim again
walk ashore
i live and die in the eternal city
where the meek await to inherit
what is left of the earth
o the hovering the hovering

the bronx vikings

By w. r. rodriguez

i see serpent ships
fierce eyed and grimacing prows
pregnant sails red as villages ablaze
blood and the setting sun red
a favorable wind and sturdy oarsmen
into the sunset which is our east
following the green coast
from the wasteland to warm winters
women and cattle aboard
immigrant explorers beyond the known world
hope the tidal lake karlsefini names it
i see water as blue
as never again
timber and ecstatic grapes
the bountiful beautiful land
salt marshes aswarm with birds
valleys and bluffs rolling to shore
huts are built fish caught
indians trade pelts for string and milk
more pelts less string
then a squabble and stone and iron clash
freydis bares herself
slaps a sword to her breast
like a berserk goddness and the battle halts
the terror of europe retreats to the waves
leaving an ax and runes for the dead
sailing to cold riches lest history repeat
and the warriors celebrate
beneath bronx sky by the ominous sea