May/June 2017 • Vol. XXXIX No. 3 Nature's NatureMay 1, 2017 |

Self Portrait through a Glass, Dimly

I am one of the final crew born under an untouched moon. I come from when the past was black and white. December was colder then and whiter. Brighter.I miss the snow but love this dim lit rain. I see it in the past when I walk. I make an effort for color but in black and white it comes right alive and dim light tendsto two-tone. Brooklyn utterly other, horseshit mud and piss gullies, dives, but also these lovely buildings newer, fruit peddlers, carriage houses, bellson fire stations, black prams cupping knit-clad infants always gazing at a sky. I started this poem a week ago, todayis another day of storm-lush dimness. It's December in NY and warm, the buds budging out of season. Someday sooneveryone's store of family photos, great-grandparents included, will bein color; the past will no longerbe in black and white. Painted portraits were redolent of color, red robes ruby. Only one century had to record itself in black and white, espresso and foam,from Daguerre in 1839to 1935 w

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