Saturday, July 3, 2010

Tuttle Explains Himself

43rd street and Duval
Is the hub of my city
Where I walk in the morning

And talk with strangers
Passing by, who nod and smile
Like friends. The pastry shop

Fills my coffee mug for free
And at a small table
By a large window

I sit sometimes for hours
And watch my city
Ecstatic in its thrumming

Flowing lines and textures
Gushing, green, going—
Alive in sacred brightness—

So bright sometimes I see the end—
The very end—
Where we combust

And everything happens again.

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