A Portland Street in Pittsburgh

on the fringe of Pittsburgh
in a peaceful space
some adult's childhood
leaves yard toys artfully lain
upon golden pine needles unswept
among rows of smoked brick homes
from a brittle steel time 
distant like a train whistle blowing
from baron to gentry wind 
in an urban flower growth
through a crack in barren land
slipping bankrupted through our hands
but on a Portland Street 
there is one and only one  
crafting art and musica
into a living landscape painting
on board a bed of floating air
swinging from a front yard tree
necessarily retooled for infinity

October 4, 2017