Onyx Publications
  • from Windows

    Written By: Dennis Maloney

    © 2021 by Dennis Maloney
A moonless night on

a deserted Caribbean beach

scattered stars in a cloudy sky


Behind me a shadowy line

of palms and sea grape trees

and just the dark restless sea

and the music of waves


For a moment we feel like

Columbus never arrived

The conquistadors of today

arrive not with an army

and a priest but a checkbook,

lawyer, and accountant


The tourists arrive each afternoon

as the sun reaches its zenith

to the sea and anoint their

pale pink flesh with oil

that leaves their skin

glistening in the sun

Le Corbusier, master architect

Of the clean but soulless line

Created a world pure and

Devoid of ornamentation

Yet based his design

For the seacoast of

Rio de Janeiro

On the dimensions

Of Josephine Baker’s hips.

This morning I mistook

the sky for an ocean

in the windshield

a  surreal vision

of blues and aquamarines

streaming in aqueous vision

framed by a shore

of shadowy dark mountains.

Snow articulating the

folds and wrinkles

suddenly I am back on the

interstate driving west

from Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Deep in the evening

of the summer solstice

the strawberry moon hung

huge over the mountains

walking across the salt flats

illuminating them

with an iridescent glow


In June when fruit

bursts forth the Mohawk

would gather wild berries

the juice running

down their mouths

staining their tongues

and faces with joy


Poems that keep alive

these ancient songs

Morning, too soon

sunlight bright

through the windows


The bed warm

wrapped each

in the other

we wake from

a common dream


Out into a

bitter cold

scrape car windows

and begin

our separate days

Mirrored office towers

cold as their blueprints

rise out of old pastures

cut through with new roads,

sod rolled out onto lawns

the seams still showing


The mirror walls

reflect one another,

bits of sky and clouds

In a ragged patch

a chorus of cicada’s

sings at the edge of night