A Vision

A chance walk

down a bustling 14th

We made our way

along lesser known streets

and came across a few

dazzling gems:

A 1950’s pin-up paste up

Grey storm windows down a dark SOHO alley

Layers of pink and gold graffiti on the lonely Manhattan bridge

that mirrored the

shifting sunset

behind the hallowed New York

skyline…

Sitting at this

table

looking up to you for

inspiration

You say,

“I wish I had that

Leica” and I think

“Someday.”

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Nocturnal Narrative of a Garden at Night

I

The frozen fragrance of sparrows in flight

Blooms that unfurl like Jasmine in sight

A Dancer under a waning moon…

iridescent costumes transformed in cocoons

She hangs above and casts a faint glow

on the somnambulant citizens grazing below…

II

The dark inner melancholy

a secret howl

irrevocably

cycles

intermittently

illuminated only by the grace

of heaven’s stars…

A soldier marching

A warrior gazing

A refugee fleeing

A Taino singing

Dying baby

Antelope grazing

Cheetah lazy

Document_SAVING.

A Poem a Day

Keep coming back

around the hill

down the slope

up the bridge

Telescope.

Found a home

within your arms

A poem a day

keeps one safe from harm.

On the Bus

Writing a poem

on the bus home

tried to leave fast

many busses passed

Ask him a question

He said, “Next one”

Weather dipped down…

tryin’ to cross town.

BX3 HERE!

Skinny Girl Prelude/Prayer/Lie

Some girls wander by mistake

Your guess is free for me to make

I’m not sure what you mean by that—

Don’t mind if I do!

chubby

or

fat

or

stout

or

w    i        d            e

“I’ve tried, I’ve tried, I’ve tried, I’ve tried!”

 

Tears fall down into the granite sink

again

against

my better judgement

A bereavement has left

marks on the pavement

A SOLID disillusionment

of all I’ve ever meant

or all I’ve ever thought you

ever said—

who forces the hand

that writes in pen?

Amend

A men

Amen.

Coming Home

Everything seems taller

As my makeshift soul sinks into your concrete floors

My head shifty with a slight headache

As I dream of opening

My apartment door

To see you sniff

And meow

A warm nestling and reverberating of your fur

Were

You thinking of me as you bathed in slanted winter light on

Subtly gray March Brooklyn afternoons?

On the Airplane

The old man said, “Next time…

call us up and 

reserve food for 

yourself” or 

something like that

and while I politely agreed

I longed for something

sweeter

and deeper 

and the sadness

that crept up

over and over again during the week

on the beach

in my sleep

crept up once again

as I watched you

hollow stranger

eat orange buffalo chicken salad

next to me with

your silent can of

coke.

 

“Lost Boys” Poster

We are

slightly snowed

in

on a frigid winter day.

You took a picture

of where the

corner of our

block and

the Avenue meet

and you said

“it looks like Norman Rockwell!”

and I agreed

and said it reminded me of

the New York in Color photography

book we have

and soon it’ll come in the mail

and

we’ll hang it up on the wall

next to the Lost Boys poster.