(Killed for their words. Fools don't even believe in their selves!)
hard winter dreams
carried
in a long drift
beyond yesterday
hard ride bicycle glide
59th street bridge song
moving fast between
cares and holes
long fall
hudson river ice
midnight moon full
against deep black
star screams and silence
snow covered fields
lifeless reflecting
star-light cold
roads
black ice
longer then tomorrow dare believe
Cold, hard write… On a cold, hard night. Not sure what the lead in, referring to either the cops or the killing in Paris, has to do with this poem on a slippery slope.
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Ron