Spring Night at Patchin Place
This courtyard holds a dark intimacy,
jeweled with muted window lights.
From hanging baskets of impatiens,
tightly-bound buds quiver with promise,
and clicking heels on cobblestones
punctuate the cries of late-night lovers,
while ghost clouds of languid day and
a new moon sail, windless, toward dawn.
Artie Shaw and his Orchestra, with Helen Forrest

From Charles:
Hi Paul,
Thanks so much for posting “Spring Night at Patchin Place.”
The place is the small triangular park in front of St. Marks Church in the East Village, directly across town from Patchin Place.
And the Artie Shaw version of “Deep Purple” reminds me of the 1940s, when e.e. cummings, Djuna Barnes, and other writers lived at Patchin Place. Bravo!
Regards,
Charles
From Paul Goldfinger, editor Blogfinger.net:
Thank you for the love letter. You are right about Charles Pierre whose poems often contain vivid imagery such as his line, “clicking heels on cobblestones.” I can imagine someone trying to slink into a Patchin Place apartment without being detected. PG
LOVE THIS poem and photo !!