Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 19, 2012
Big events are too few and far between
To build a life of more than dreams
Smatterings of surprises spread
Across the days and weeks
Provide more light more mystery
Places to delightfully do and be
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 18, 2012
Where his lens looked
There was always fashion
His wondrous eye to see
On every street corner
His bicycle mirrored him
In lanky angularity
On dark Hudson street
When I saw Bill Cunningham
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 16, 2012
They say she passed by
As if immortality
Was a kind of failure
Something for slackers
Death more ambitious
Bereft of achievement
Incapable of creativity
Since all possibilities
Except for infinity
Have been considered
For better or worse
time after time after time
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 15, 2012
Voices tumble out of the woods
Children escape staid picnic tables
Spread in the proper meadow
Where aunts and uncles rest
Some quietly napping
While the fairies and elves
Dragons and witches
Reign supreme nearby
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on July 14, 2012
Photographs' mat and glossy candor
Capture romance and banality
Possibility and disappointment
Kept in thick black pages
None too carefully by aging aunts
Whose siblings beat them to heaven
So they maintained the family history
As best they could for dwindling
Survivors who no longer knew
Who the proud people were in front
Of the wooden store somewhere
In Acadian Canada before the
Moves to Massachusetts
And Rhode Island
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