9 ways of viewing the Brooklyn Bridge by Joan McNerney (LANDMARKS Series)

9 ways of viewing the Brooklyn Bridge
by Joan McNerney

1
from far away as if
a child drew 2 bright
triangles in the sky

2
empty newspaper truck
rattling over violet bridge

3
rain sweeps through giant
silver spider web

4
obscured by N train
its metal doors reflect freight
boats and painted containers

5
tipping from side to side
listening to loose tracks

6
passengers huddled in tight circles
woolen gloves around steel pole

7
1 square of sunset
in the sticky window

8
orange ball bounces beside
bridge…slides into blue water
white waves

9
black sky black sea
yellow moon climbs
over buildings
3 foghorns

PHOTO: “The Brooklyn Bridge” found at Pixabay, used by permission.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I am originally from Brooklyn, and always loved the Brooklyn Bridge. I could glimpse it riding the subway to work each day.  It was the first bridge to span its way to Manhattan and has a remarkable history. When it was finished, the entire city celebrated, because we know how New Yorkers love to party. Lastly, kudos to Wallace Stevens and his wonderful inspiration for this poem.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Joan McNerney’s poetry is found in many literary magazines, such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days, as well as in four Bright Hills Press anthologies, several editions of the  Poppy Road Review, and numerous Spectrum Publications.  Her latest title, The Muse In Miniature, is available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net.  She has four Best of the Net nominations.

Toward the Verrazano, poem by Stephen Dunn

TOWARD THE VERRAZANO
Poem by Stephen Dunn

Up from South Jersey and the low persistent
pines, pollution curls into the sky
like dark cast-off ribbons
and the part of us that’s pure camera,
that loves funnel clouds and blood
on a white dress, is satisfied.
At mile 127, no trace of a tree now,
nothing but concrete and high tension
wires, we hood toward to Outerbridge
past Arthur Kill Road where garbage trucks
work the largest landfill in the world.
The windscreens are littered, gorgeous
with rotogravure sections, torn love
letters mauve once-used tissues. The gulls
dip down like addicts, rise like angels.
Soon we’re in traffic, row houses, a college
we’ve never heard of stark as an asylum.
In the distance there it is, the crown
of this back way in, immense, silvery, 
and in no time we’re suspended
out over the Narrows by a logic linked
to faith, so accustomed to the miraculous
we hardly speak, and when we do
it’s with those words found on picture postcards
from polite friends with nothing to say. 

Photo: Arthur Kill Road, Staten Island, New York (1973), EPA Photo from National Archives.

Poet Ellaraine Lockie Meets Photographer Nick Warzin in NYC

Ellaraine Lockie, author of the Silver Birch Press poetry release COFFEE HOUSE CONFESSIONS, performed at the Two Moon Art House and Cafe in Brooklyn on April 7th — and in the audience was Nick Warzin, the Toronto-based photographer who shot the photograph that appears on the cover of her book (included below). Lockie received an email from Warzin in the afternoon and learned that he was also in NYC. She invited him to the gig and they met at last — and commemorated the meeting with the photo you see here. For more about Nick Warzin, visit his website at nickwarzin.com.

Toward the Verrazano, Poem by Stephen Dunn

TOWARD THE VERRAZANO

Poem by Stephen Dunn

Up from South Jersey and the low persistent

pines, pollution curls into the sky

like dark cast-off ribbons

and the part of us that’s pure camera,

that loves funnel clouds and blood

on a white dress, is satisfied.

At mile 127, no trace of a tree now,

nothing but concrete and high tension

wires, we hood toward to Outerbridge

past Arthur Kill Road where garbage trucks

work the largest landfill in the world.

The windscreens are littered, gorgeous

with rotogravure sections, torn love

letters mauve once-used tissues. The gulls

dip down like addicts, rise like angels.

Soon we’re in traffic, row houses, a college

we’ve never heard of stark as an asylum.

In the distance there it is, the crown

of this back way in, immense, silvery, 

and in no time we’re suspended

out over the Narrows by a logic linked

to faith, so accustomed to the miraculous

we hardly speak, and when we do

it’s with those words found on picture postcards

from polite friends with nothing to say. 

Above photo: Arthur Kill Road, Staten Island, New York (1973), EPA Photo from National Archives.

Note: The title refers to the Verranzano Bridge, a suspension bridge that connects Staten Island and Brooklyn (see photo at left — U.S. Navy Photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Jonathan Snyder)