A Catalpa Tree On West Twelfth Street

While the sun stops, or
Seems to, to define a term
For the indeterminable,
The human aspect, here
In the West Village, spindles
To a mutilated dazzle-

Niched shards of solitude
Embedded in these brownstone
Walkups such that the Hudson
At the foot of Twelfth Street
Might be a thing that’s
Done with mirrors: definition

By deracination-grunge,
Hip-hop, Chinese takeout,
Co-ops-while the globe’s
Elixir caters, year by year,
To the resurgence of this
Climbing tentpole, frilled and stippled

Yet again with bloom
To greet the solstice:
What year was it it over-
Took the fire escape? The
Roof’s its next objective.
Will posterity (if there

Is any)pause to regret
Such layerings of shade,
Their cadenced crests’ trans-
Valuation of decay, the dust
And perfume of an all
Too terminable process?

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A Catalpa Tree On West Twelfth Street