Winter in New Orleans February 8, 2008
Posted by Mark Folse in 504, cryptic envelopment, Dancing Bear, Debrisville, New Orleans, NOLA, poem, Poetry, Rebirth, Toulouse Street.Tags: azelea, flower, New Orleans, NOLA, poem, Poetry, winter
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The small azalea, potted
on my porch, draped
in wilted clippings ripped
from neighbors nearly killed
by that frost insists
on budding, perhaps mourning
the red ribbon removed
on Twelfth Night. Bloom
I whisper and chase
these winter blues away.
or at these independent New Orleans bookstores:
Hey Noble Mon,
I remember this beautiful piece from Jan 19th and put it onto the Ladder then with one of my own. I was so sad to miss Krewe du Vieux and it was just what I needed.
…and now yer jus’axsin’ for it again…
He snaps his fingers with long black hands
the way one might spin bottle caps
or thump the ears of a playground bully,
from close to shoulder,
straight out forward
to the point…at the end
where it all begins again.
He sings Sitting On the Dock of the Bay,
Ol’Man River at his back,
with a family of tourists captured on a park bench.
He gives them Chicago, San Fran~cisco, New York~New York
and all the songs in between.
I think he comes from Felicity Street
–I’ve seen him there,
a pack of children dancing at his feet.
He gives them candy. He gives them shade.
They call him Gran’Daddy…
He gives them anything.