CHICAGO

With Chicago’s manifold options

You can do almost everything

It is not a city—it is a world

And the world is represented in

Its population’s ethnicity

 

But it isn’t a world

Chicago is its own world

And if you lived here all your life

It would make you in the image of Chicago

 

Part of what makes Chicago, though

Is the Ethiopian cab driver

Who took us to the Lake Michigan beach

–the waves were large on the waters—

And the Jordanian cab driver who took us home

Both immigrants bringing their personalities other than Chicago home-grown

And the harmonica player with the French accent

Who grew up here with the mixed whites

And Afro-Americans who live here and

Some gave the world sounds of the blues

So there is always a fresh perspective

On the city and an opening outward

Of those few or many home-grown

But I didn’t see any Indigenous

 

I heard superb jazz in Chicago, though

Better in Westchester, PA, of all places

But the mix wasn’t good, echoes

The blues clubs in Chicago feel like shrines

Heart, community

Good blues, but not extraordinary, surprisingly

Chicago has history and lore

But not the legendary status of storied New York

I would make America’s cities:

New York, L. A., Chicago, and Boston

You could live your life in Chicago

Because it is as a world

In its manifold superb and variegated options

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Perpetual Spring

As I age, the world ages with me

As it always has

Things I treasure go out of style

Live music, blues, jazz, the symphony

Peace and love

Mozart went out of style

And nobody knows where he is buried

Who performed for princes, kings, queens

High art, technique, form fail

Churches dwindle, consolidate, close

Zoroaster, Moses, Jesus shrugged off

They follow Zeus, Apollo, Heracles

 

There is no perpetual spring

There follows summer, autumn, winter, and spring again

As I autumn, I can’t see spring again

No, I don’t see spring

I will be leaving this world

And I look toward another

And as my world dies, perhaps it is well that I also with it

I think less of my legacy than I do my potential

In my autumn I see perpetual springtime