The Sawn Bench: Poems

"The park is where you go when you need space. It is not pretty, not well kept. Branches are broken and sawn off. Yet things happen. Under the planetrees, children play, lovers quarrel, sailors smoke, men play bocci. Trysts, mishaps, crises, illuminations take place. It is sunny or gray, quiet or noise-filled. In the park is a presence. Sit a while and it fells you. When you get up, you are different." - David Appelbaum.