11:11

At 11:11

I will make a wish

that one day

my 11:11 wish won’t have to count,

won’t be some far off, preposterous thing,

that being a person,

first and foremost,

is about existing on Earth

and not in someone else’s wallet.

 

At 11:11,

I will make a wish

that all of my future wishes

come true.

Birthday cakes, eyelashes,

four leaf clovers–

send them all my way

and soon veganism will be widespread,

time machines will be real

and life will come with an automatic “pause” button.

 

I don’t want to leave

this time, this place

just yet.

 

The dollars we learned

to put above ourselves

back in 2017, 1999, 1776– they are far away.

 

Nothing to despair over.

 

It’s just 11:11:

four parallel lines

chasing after each other,

and never meeting.

 

August 27, 2017

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Life

I don’t care

what you believe in,

as long as you admit

that there is something first and foremost,

yesterday, today, and tomorrow

beyond life and death

undeniable,

beyond your front door, your morning coffee, your Instagram feed

 

Life

is the spirit between your collar bones,

beneath  your chest,

the heartbeat Earth lent you

asking only two things in return:

don’t forget

where you came from;

don’t forget

to give back.

 

March 26, 2017

To Be Me

What a struggle

to be me,

sitting here

so patiently

waiting for a new train to come,

the last one long gone,

gone, gone…

 

We need nothing,

and yet there is longing;

we want everything,

and yet here it is:

everything,

sitting

on some stone in my backyard.

 

All along, it has sat.

 

Patiently,

sitting,

in a station

I have sat at many times.

 

Maybe if it looked in on itself,

it would find patience there, too.

 

January 9, 2016

Watching the Night

Have I ever gazed

a sight like this?

Third (fourth) floor?

Window sill?

Moon shining like a teardrop

ready to fall from above?

 

Well, no.

It will stay in its place.

All you must do

is spread your wings

and fly up there yourself, darling.

 

You have nothing to fear.

 

It is just a New York street,

an Upper Manhattan merengue

playing off in the distance.

 

What does that sound, taste, scent of doubt

have on this essence of consciousness?

 

We are here together, on this main stage.

 

It keeps turning,

we keep turning,

your mind keeps turning

let it be what it is.

Feel it.  Nod, let it go.

 

Patience is hidden in the smile of the moon,

offered by the silence of her sister sun

she remains, shining brighter in the darkness

and not afraid of her beauty, either.

 

The real miracle

is knowing how to watch the show

and not become it;

the moon does this for us every night

brushes her lips against the sky

I can see it shining–

a smile reflected in the stars.

 

No, I cannot see them above the diner sign

but I can hear them:

whispers of light

burning through the galaxy

reminding us

that we do not understand time, just yet.

 

July 12, 2016

Riverside Park

Some days,

my eyes drift down like leaves

falling to the ground

they do not fight the wind

they say, “Thank you,” and move on.

 

Others,

they cry–

and don’t even know why–

it doesn’t feel like rain

it just feels like a mess I have made.

 

Listen as I run.

 

Footsteps left behind

they will fade with time

the sunset is the only direction I am headed in,

no matter the feeling

I keep moving

for life is about flowing with the storm,

even when it’s in your mind.

 

May 1, 2016