Walk Sounds

by Bob Kaufman (1925-1986)


Soft noise, where crystalline sap dwells,
Tree bark houses, tree bark shoes.
Long green journeys, into sounds of death.
Cries of who blows, who blows, who blows,
Rings of raindrops, on damp streets.
Quietly disappearing, in fearmottled night,
Sweeping over asphalt mesas, to long gutters,
Where gray birds lie, gone time is buried,
Safe from hideous laughter, babblings,
Of sidewalk fools, tongues straining,
Flicking, on steps of air, nervously,
Glowing blue, black, blue, black,
In the shapes of night.

*

Questions to think about: This is a poem of vivid imagination, and maybe a little disturbing. What does the poet see and hear? What is the mood of the poem? Can you write a poem about "walk sounds," maybe one much different from Bob Kaufman's? Could you write a daytime counterpart to Kaufman's nighttime poem?