Brooklyn Bridge New York 1926

Harp strings, other ethereal maunderings,

Brooklyn Bridge has been poet's meat

ever since gargantuan beginnings

made Walt Whitman's ferry obsolete.

Here, I do not sense Hart Crane's stringed music,

only lofty solidity of span,

unpretentious brawn, not at all mystic,

linking workday Brooklyn to Manhattan.

Golden clock glows, important as cables,

crescent moon is a star in its own right,

four shadowy humans are quite able

to draw our eyes toward windows of the night.

In this space there is nothing ominous,

all stands serene and softly luminous.

 

 

 

Done