living. in newyork
where Pieces of the Universe
all cramsquish
Themselves together,

some say
the Noises of
such a City
are overwhelming.

beep-beeping of horns,
swish-chug-chugging
of the subway,
constant hustling and bustling
you can hear.

nonstop.nonstop.
noise.noise.noise.

so I’ve heard with my eyes.

for me
newyork is motion
no noise

waking. to the sunrise
as it peers through the
windows of the 5th floor
apartment.
no alarm clock.

rising. to the sight of
my music: the light dancing
off prisms of a weathered antique lamp.

music - like this
is so wonderfulbeautiful
but most
don’t seem
to stop and
Notice.

walking. to the smell of hotdogs
roasting, people smoking.

everywhere is Light.
glinting off shimmering doorways
bouncing through glass window panes
blaring from the traffic light

seeking through eyes of the Woman
playing her mandolin
on that street.

seeping between the clouds
flashing from everywhere.
everywhere.

as I ride
up the fastfastfast
elevator, I take
my pens out
of the pocket in
my bag.

they are setandready to go.
everywhere we go together.
following the everywhere.everywhere.
that Light goes.

sitting. at a desk. ready to
capture the Light.
glinting. bouncing.
blaring. flashing.
seeking.

people say I’m good.
I don’t know.
I just know
I like the Light
in their eyes
when they look
into my picture.
my Piece
of the Universe.

when the Light
in the sky
makes Its way
around the clock
in my head,

I know
It’s time to leave.

the sorrow
is softened
by the thought
that there will
be more Light
tomorrow.

there is always
Light
in newyork.