Relief Crowded subway stop “C train is now approaching!” Oh—an empty seat! The Alarm Never Rang Crap. Late yet again This day is doomed to fail Until—Our eyes meet. Food for Thought Amid Wordsworth my Stomach acid bubbles as I dream of dollar pizza.
This was inspired after reading Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.” Hope you enjoy. I am the Van Gough grass tossed sideways by the East River I am the burnt amber of an autumn whose mistress is summer sweltering, muggy Manhattan summer, toes skimming Dumbo water I am the grey slabs and faceless buildings […]
I walk down the blocks of the city that defines me and millions of others but what I feel is not what they feel what I dream of, they do not Crisp winter air kisses my cheeks and bids me good morning as the crowds of business men and women swoop off to their […]
Are we to start again with the 8-5? So soon? Am I to relinquish the s l o w languid beginning of each day, when my muscles lie in slumber and I choose to wake up and greet the day one two three hours later? Am I to now scurry off to school a slave […]