Adam Brodsky Cleveland Heights, OH poet

*
and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana,

solitary in a wide flat space,

uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near,

I know very well I could not

Walt Whitman

*

jb
Jim Lang and Ben Gulyas clear of sockets

*

Oh, Sunflower (for Lang)

Oh, sunflower–
socket clear & skeleton thick–
w/roots every which way
connecting it
across time
to loneliness…

Oh, beauty,
waiting perfect
in tin cans
we’ve come
to gently stew in…
Sunflower,
the foto finish shows
you’re black & white,
a stalk in the night,
a glare,
a caption.

In twilight,
you stood alone
with it all running through,
a rail yard,
a bottle cap,
a memory,
a train.

Those shoes
were big enough for two
& two more.
You led the pack
putting familiars
before
the direction
your beard pointed.
A theme.

Even with strangers,
you were never alone,
sunflower.
On the bus.
Horsing around.
Trailing the tears.
Making moments.
Climbing
lines of smoke
into clouds.
Disappearing
into a hat.
It was a party:
Lang gone wild.
A discussion.
Take your stalk & go.
Hoof it
back into family,
forward into history,
with a paper bag
of words
that stars fall out of
& dreams.
Look, there’s a penny.
No, it’s a dime.

June, moon, tune, croon,
Oh, sunflower.
Train, train, train.

*

Adam Brodsky is a poet, publisher and educator who performs guitar songs round the parts of Cleve.

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