Untethered ballerinas in Queens Plaza cross over towards Sunnyside Yard,
tiptoeing as if they were still children, and grounded acrobats,
heavy from endless aerials, try to avoid the live wire on the bridge,
barely missing the train as it flies over their heads.

The rest of the ones, born grounded,
cross over the Queensboro Bridge safely on buses and in their cars;
they creep slow, along with the traffic, they sonder on, currently unsatisfied,
wishing they could fly and float away, at least, a bit faster
than whatever mood-elevation they’re currently on—

Another lackluster Tuesday, almost electrified
as the commuters slowly gain some needed power as they ride.

Those hundreds of young lambs, not yet thirty, gathered thick upon the opera house,
waiting for Greenwood’s genius—the good-natured Jonny is not just a rocker, but he could orchestrate gorgeous, classical music from mid-1950’s London, and I wonder:
“Did these young lambs ever heard such music before?”

After the live orchestra finished playing the movie,
the lambs went drinking at the biergarten
as I sopped up Ethiopian chicken stew and yellow lentils,
mulling over the themes of the theater
and the spicy flavors of the meat
(I stayed away from the lamb)

Ice dancers do their rhumbas
donning Latin fringe,
gliding their twizzles in 7 second-long rotations,
skating towards first place—

Twilit, almost wearing the soul of evening.

We long to be in the heart of the action,
both the girl & boy move like poetry
as they heat up the ice with their sexy moves.

The ladies, bright as male peacocks,
the men, in black, glittered, skintight deep-V shirts,
both playing the rose and the stem.

Bloody Valentines,
Ash Wednesday’s victims turn to ash.
Another senseless shooting in Florida

17 deaths and counting,
the school kids dodged bullets,
some of them never returning home—
just another senseless shooting in Florida

Why is it so easy
for a 19-year-old to buy an AR-15 rifle?
Do we blame his mental illness or today’s gun laws?
Or Republicans?

Why, God, if you’re still here,
was there
another senseless shooting in Florida?

No one deserves to die like this.


You say the damage is done,

too many doors to open & go through

Not just freckles upon your face,

and the old dream’s almost over—

But if we do make the list,

and reach the mountain top, boys & girls

This wasn’t just a daydream,

the impossible concept of becoming happy

A blinding, nagging hindrance

we all need to chase away

A potent thought in a safe place

should be carefully watered.

Within one singular breath
is the distance between life and death,
for ones not yet born and those who have been here,
young, old, straight, queer—

Man, woman, and those singularly defined,
we cross the paths to the future primed
without a road map, without explanation,
we exist, moving from station to station

sometimes armed with knowledge, sometimes learning nothing—
Life is sparked, lit and burning true, then snuffed out, a done thing.
Did we wonder what we would have done if we knew,
if this were the last time? Suspicions grew

fast, and blame and grief, and guilt too, they last; the memories overpower
all the consolations of well-wishers, the inner never-ceasing shower
from utter loss, feeling like rubbish, without hope or certainty.
What is life now without my loved one beside me?

Our baby had checked out early; what can we do now?
The snow falls fast upon the farmer’s plow,
even after tragedy, we keep on moving; one must not wait,
so others can be fed, and to not suffer the same fate.

For all are invited to Death’s door,
let’s pray it’s not our time to go yet, remain here a little more.