a bead of time

pinpoint me here:

the midst of words

If I'm lost in

May the art of my wrist untangle the tock

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so you might pull me out.

and reach the other side

swim the page with the strokes of a pen,

and fantasies. I dive through it,

is swollen with ideas, perceptions,

the dense space between nib and page

tracing circles in the air;

My pen hovers over the notebook

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the next day to the mayor's office.

balked on wearing it

the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, but

and wore the hat home over

the man in the bowler hat

I decided I was

on; and on the second try

with Barbara urging me to try it

going in one afternoon

and eyed it for weeks before

a hat store in Lower Manhattan

this derby in the window of