TOMPKINS SQUARE PARK
I hold this day
Like a globe of cold
Steel, a silver
Ball bearing:
Heavy, perfect.
Weak sun washes me.
Metallic light
Silvers streamlined,
Uncluttered by summer’s
Vulgar fertility.
Squirrels crash
Through this neat sleep
In perpetual panic,
But they seem few.
Quiet peers back
Past the church spire
Like a placid face.
Hope, in bronze,
Has her back to me
Ankle pertly cocked
Busy with another
Granting gorgeous, lavish wishes
Vacations, love affairs.
Her hands reach up
Proffer gifts aloft,
A raft of distractions.
I turn away.
Already, the day
Is heavy and perfect,
A globe of cold
Steel, a round rock.
(Dec. 2003)

Steve Junryu Reed has been attending the Village Zendo since 2004. He enjoys wandering the city with his camera and documenting impermanence and flow in the interplay of light and shadow, as well as the work of graffiti and street artists. His idea of the perfect day is riding the subway to a place he's never been, taking a long walk and coming home with a few dozen photos. He published some poetry in college.