last night there was a cockroach
poking its feelers out from it’s rooftop hideaway
and at night it caught me by the creeps
but today in the
afternoon brightness
complete with my coffee and sun hat
i’m not quite as creeped
and maybe that’s the lesson for today:
the despair from yesterday
can turn to creativity today
which maybe someday could develop into
flow[tomorrow]
no wonder poets wonder about new york city
this place is confusing
and disgusting
and beauty
there’s a feeling in the air
a crispness
but not a coldness
it’s almost 5pm and the sun still hasn’t set
yet
and i feel like this feeling is hope.
there’s music in my ears
music i’ve never listened to before
and if i wanted some obscure Asian cuisine
i just get off at a different stop
on this very subway train,
i’m not saying i’m wholly happy
nor that New York feels like home
quite yet
but
there’s a feeling in the air
and i feel
like this feeling
could
be
hope
oddly beautiful:
freshly fallen snow
on
New York City garbage bags
echoing construction
or a drum circle in a nearby subway?
the nyc story
you are allowed
to start a million poems
with
‘when i was…’
maybe you need to reflect on
what was
before writing about
what now could be
if you listen (not so) closely
the horns of the cars of a New York City street
almost sound like
the horns of the start of a New Orleans brass band
i have decided it is an adventure in and of itself
moving to
NYC
our walking tour of the historic sites of stonewall and gay Greenwich Village
was postponed, likely to be canceled, without notice
for a Lady Gaga concert scheduled to begin
in seven and a half hours
and if that isn’t the perfect metaphor
for the commercialization and lost history
of Pride
i don’t know what is.
i type on an app
that makes my iPad
emulate a typewriter
i love feeling
like hipster trash
kipventures 