I
When I  wake up and dreams unravel
the sun projects on the white curtains
the grimace of bare trees.
The frost inscribes its silver lace
on the windows' seams.

I wear my friends like broken trunks.
The wind has torn their braches,
a wild tangle in winter time.
Who'll tidy up my landscape?

I wait for spring when they will wear
green smiles to hide their  wounds.

                         II
Driving to the Hamptons
pale land unfolds,
a carpet of gray green,
space reaching to land's end.

Oh the unemployed mansions,
resting shingled retreats
from the competing flux
of floating fortunes.

                    III
Water  rises on the outskirts of the island.
Boats unanchored float into the living room.
Wind lashes at power poles.  We're cutting loose.

Kerosene lamps licking darkness throw shadows.
Fire hisses its blind secrets in my woodstove.
The roof rests on long nights of sleeping dangers.

Dates dwindle on empty calendars.
Nowhere to go, time teaches me
survival.

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