The velvet blue seats
Set adjacent to the table circles
Whirled with oak floors
The Brooklyn Coffee Shop
Full of headphones and beat up leather shoes
Glass windows giant to see through
I await my wife
In the Empire State
Under a sign that reads
Toby’s Estate
A single bird flies down Manhattan Avenue
2 wings flapping strong in the wind
Gentle acceleration
Calling out lightly at 6 AM
Such stillness can exist in the city
High hitting trains come to a stop
To see this small bird perched atop
The brownstones of Brooklyn
Resting its wings
To begin it’s ritual sing
Lighten the roads with laughter
The clanking of iron clad walls
Retracted
Open for business now
Seemingly attractive
Deliveries on time and delayed
Now I rush out the door
To see the bird fly away
My brain in a bottle of kombucha on a ride through the rockies
Fermented and pressurized ready to explode
Some days my mind winds up so fast
With nowhere to go
Those days seem to be the most frustrating
Deranging
Planning becomes insufficient
My minds moves quicker than a prayer to St. Vincent
Contingent on results
That can no be provided quick enough
To ease my worried thoughts
I wish I was more thought delayed
Taking my days with quite more ease
Rather than trying to just run away
The mind can be a mild pond or a ravenous sea
Somehow I am the one who decides
It’s ultimately up to me
The sweet subtleties of the city
Through the breeze of leaves
Blossom from the long winter
Spring man now enter
In the calmness of May
May we be entertained by the weather
Alone
The gentle feel of a mild day
Close your eyes
To feel the city lift you away
The country mind
Somehow growing up dreaming of the city
The bright lights
Open all night
The bustle of people
And feeling alright
Yet differently
How the city mind
Grows up dreaming of the country fields
Wind swept
Vast land appeal
There is no perfect remedy to this deal
For one desires the other
For the other can never be
What the city life provides
The country life will never be
So fill life full with many experiences
Long for the city
Long for the fields
The experiences we gain
We be our minds true yield
The breeze through the leaves of New York City
Any other city would be untrue
Somehow in a full town
It feels like just me
And you
The unknown path of success
Teeters as much in my hands
As it does at rest
It balances not with my abilities
Talents or goodwill
It will find a line curved
Sloped sideways
And up a hill
The great challenge is to wait
Undisturbed
Knowing that I am
Unacquainted with the ways of success
It must pass from my hands
Through the eyes of onlookers
Into ears and slowly through hearts
Then it must make it way
Back out through the mouth
To adhere to other ears
Drumming to the sound of what is new success
These ears must then determine if my notes
Pass their discernment test
For which at this point
I have no possession of fluent success
It is now in the air we breathe
The sights we see
It is out there tucked away
Against the mess
Somehow
I can not define
What is success
The inconsolable sociopath
Taking note of what to destroy
Along the path
It is sad
That little can be done for such sadness
How can I reflect on my own faults
Weaknesses and shortcomings
Undone and left for incomplete
I wake in the morning
To refine the nimbleness of the fingers
Mind and stretch the soul
I will admit that my own weakness
Is that I can not slow down
Take hold
But if we search for only the shortcomings
Of one another
We will be sorely disappointed
None can claim perfection as a profession
Such naysayers can have such perfusion
A fusion feeding the needing soul
Passing through this life
Looking for the simple imperfections to hold on to
I pass over this
Wake up again and let it go to rest
There is only so much stress
I stay cool
Under the real life test
The bells gently toll along Brooklyn Streets
Reminding us
That this city celebrates and grieves
Lives and breathes
From my studio
You hear the city life come to light
Lighting the sky
Filling the rooms
Walking down Manhattan Avenue
The fog wears heavy on the Manhattan Skyline
Tucked away from view
A sleepy afternoon
The memories of my life
Will be created here
Not in Paris or Tokyo
Rather just east of the Hudson
Learning to go from walking to runnin’
All under the ringing bells
of Brooklyn
“I will FUCKING KILL YOU”
The words bellow from the belly
Of the loosely dressed man
On Manhattan Ave
Across from Manhattan Inn
Enough vigor and resolute
To carry the words to my own
Windowsill
I crept to the window
The man seemed unwell
Ill
I couldn’t make it out the clear
Words strung about a 100 bill
–
“Why don’t you come over here”
“See who the real man is”
The street lights illuminate his
Contorted face
I pull back from the window screen
He glances in my direction
As he walks towards Manhattan Ave.
And Nassau intersection
–
I am fully engaged at this point
This rage within this man
Has the whole neighborhood up at
2 AM
–
Cars rumble past blurring
What was said
What was heard
I could only faintly here but a word
All this rage and anger
Over a C note
On that note I better get back to bed
–
Whatever he had said
It was life in the form of entertainment
I am not upset from the loss of sleep
Just tired
Whatever kept that man up
Had really shook him
On just another night
In Brooklyn
