I booked a flight to New York using Webjet and now I want to stand up and sing. It is a great travesty that I cannot stand up on my seat and belt out in my baritone, “The hills are alive with the sound of music!” Oh believe me, I want to. And I would. Every ounce of organ feels…
Forward from Bushwick Poetry, available from Amazon.com I know it was late because when I went inside to use the bathroom the last act of the night at The Goodbye Blue Monday was packing up their instruments. I invited the musicians to come out back and they joined our circle of patio chair. Half of us…
At a BBQ early today somebody brought Nickel Nips. Do you know what Nickel Nips are? Even if you think you don’t, yes, you do. Remember these little guys from your sweet tooth teething childhoods? Anyways, I twisted two together and put them in a tree, because… that’s just the sort of stuff you do…
Come gather round. Wherever you roam. Admit it: The waters around you have grown. Keep your eyes wide. The chance won’t come again. Come mothers and fathers throughout the land. Don’t criticuze what you can’t understand. Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command. Your old road is rapidly again’. Please get out of the new on…
Students in the Bronx after-school program I work with informed me that mother’s day was coming up. I would have had no idea. I’m sure Facebook will tell me the day of, but it should tell me with enough time to hook mi madre up with a box of eccentric awesomeness that seeks and delivers a holy marmot manure! surprised face.…
No one hates the skylines that make you feel omniscient to a well kept world. From the apartment I just moved into there’s a window in the common area that you can stroll up to and look out at a horizon bordered by the Empire State Building and The Freedom Tower, finally, reaching like forgiveness to the sky. There’s…
The bald spotted hipsters of Brooklyn. The thick glassed girls wearing your grandmothers clothing they purchased for more than she spent on her entire wardrobe at the Buffalo Exchange in today’s dollars I could write you a poem on a twenty dollar bill but not take you out on the town with it. Which is…
Sandy’s Mercy The trains left us to our own devices, which sparked shortages of PBR and stress in Brooklyn bars. The storm turned a shivering shoulder to the hipster hangs (whose tenants brushed off such allegations) where poetry and paintings were being carved from afternoons of the weeklong holiday Sandy ushered in…
