Denise Levertov and a fitting poem.

It is cold out. I have biked through the ice and snow a few times now and it has been lonely. It has been beautiful. Observant poets, artists, people find the amazing in the mundane. The lovely in the overwhelming.

Denise Levertov influenced many, many poets. I came to her through reading Jim Harrison. I am thankful for her influence and his introduction. Levertov has written some of the most elegant poems i have read. She writes poetry with a journalist's eye. She captures the moments and events within her language and the reader is,simply,there.

New York is, to me, the perfect city. It has all of the seasons. It has every book I would ever need. It has lives on top of lives to witness and watch and be a part of. It has a deep history and it has its troubles. I compare every city I am in with New York. This poem begs the reader to go home tonight and take a walk in the city, the suburb, or the country and watch everything happen.

It is cold out. Go be overwhelmed.



February Evening in New York


As the stores close, a winter light
opens air to iris blue,
glint of frost through the smoke
grains of mica, salt of the sidewalk.
As the buildings close, released autonomous
feet pattern the streets
in hurry and stroll; balloon heads
drift and dive above them; the bodies
aren't really there.
As the lights brighten, as the sky darkens,
a woman with crooked heels says to another woman
while they step along at a fair pace,
"You know, I'm telling you, what I love best
is life. I love life! Even if I ever get
to be old and wheezy—or limp! You know?
Limping along?—I'd still ... " Out of hearing.
To the multiple disordered tones
of gears changing, a dance
to the compass points, out, four-way river.
Prospect of sky
wedged into avenues, left at the ends of streets,
west sky, east sky: more life tonight! A range
of open time at winter's outskirts.

From: COLLECTED EARLIER POEMS 1940-1960 By Denise Levertov New Directions