(Photo by Allen Quiles)
March of Spring
The sun light shards through with a sudden pierce.
It elongated on the gray marble wall.
The orange aurora fills in the air with an invasive warmth,
And turns against the pale surface of the City street.
It is said that that’s how spring should be,
A minor calamity against the dusty cold.
I have no control.
The marching frenzy is taking over me.
The pale and gray would not fade away.
They simply transverse inward as they recede from the surface of the long tall buildings.
The pale and gray are here to stay.
But the orange, yellow red and pink,
Colors of the growing spring,
Oozes through as the piercing sun heralds the march of spring.
How do you contain the craze of this collage of minor calamities?
I cannot walk gently among this carnage of beauty.
The weather is warming up and people are out in the park.
I can't stop thinking about you among the strange faces of the City street.
I don't know what to do about this feeling of wanting to lose myself.
“They are all so strange,
Is it normal to be among them?”
Maybe that will be the last words people hear from me.
Don’t worry,
I do not plan to die.
I might simply evaporate into a thin, long existence.
Should we hold hands and march to the streets,
During the great march of warming spring?
My memory is growing thin.
What it is we are taking over, I couldn’t quite remember.
Is it for the pale gray wall shouldering over the skyward tulip bloom?
Is it for the lancing cherry trees that pushes out its pistil towards every which way,
and then heard no more?
If I march, am I allowed to keep my sane?
April 21, 2023
Kado
Photo by Allen Quiles//@goinpeacecapturetheworld
“Gunhill Houses space program“
I’ve only met Allen once at an open mic event in Bronx. We were both quite busy that night and we didn’t get to talk much. After adding him on Instagram, I am continuously amazed by his urban landscape photography.
Many of the photos he posted on Instagram do not come with a title. For those that do come with a title, I almost feel that they all come with different stories from which I am getting snapshot of it half way through a scene. Sometimes it was a cat proning on top of a wooden shelf that comes with the title “Maeve wondering if it’s lunchtime yet”. Sometimes it would be a sprouting onion resting on top of a small glass vase with the name, “Forgot about this guy in the fridge”. No matter what photo Allen Quiles is taking, he always has a way to make the object the main character of the photo.
This photo that is featured with my poem, is no exception to other photos of Allen Quiles. This one comes with a name, “Gunhill Houses space program“. I saw “Gunhill Houses space program“ about a week ago, around mid April. The comic of the water tower immediately caught my eyes. It sits so inappropriately but gently in front of the blue hues of the sky. I wondered to myself, how could the lighting of the sky, the water tower, the trees, and the yellow buildings work so perfectly in an bright April afternoon which I otherwise know not any particular significance. It was as if Allen Quiles was the only person in the city who paid attention that afternoon, and snapshotted its fleeing coincidence that went unnoticed at large. For a moment, I wanted to believe that that April afternoon was the appropriate moment to launch a spaceship from Bronx.
I shot a DM to Allen Quiles as I was preparing the publication of this poem. Although we do not know each other personally, Allen Quiles generously granted me usage of “Gunhill Houses space program”. Without commenting on my own poem, I would say this much that I am glad that my poem is being presented with Allen’s photo.