Search
  • Carly Feinman

Day 68- 11.23.20

The ginko trees


In Brooklyn and Berkeley alike, they stink.

God they stink--terribly, awfully, and

delightfully, like soiled, wet socks after

a hurried walk through

a puddled parking lot.


They are most yellow, most neon

in their conviction to be seen

just after their berries have fallen--

the culprits of stench.


Do you think maybe they sense their diminishing wakefulness?

Do they sense the sleepy winter pulling the covers up

over their eyes?

Do they feel it in their roots?


Do you think, maybe, they're shining out

with such rebellious spirit,

with such pigment

in order to express their sadness

for the changing winds?



4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Day 78- 11.3.20

Cezar Chavez Park I. The bay pulls up on the coastal rocks like a car that’s finally found a parking spot which is to say easily and with great gratitude. II. Each ripple coming towards the yellowed g

Day 77- 12.2.20

It is terrible To wake in the night and immediately know this is it for a while, until dawn, until your corner of the world collectively wakes many hours from now-- this waiting, this staring at the c

Day 76- 12.1.20

a Haiku for Sara She passed in the night with a peace so deep and true it had to be earned.

© 2020 by CARLY BROOKE FEINMAN