and found a tornado
spurn’d from my hearts welcom’d repose
and her manhattan eyes crept my
spiderweb'd sadness
from it’s rainy days
and stood motionless
and took notes on how and where to grieve
and read didion, wolfe and the daily’s
that i could find a spot worth the shade
that my aching feet
could find respite
in such emptied homes
where animals needed tending (not me)
where money is time and art is not love but process
where the cowgirls are citygirls and the busy is just false noise
where everyone tells you not to look up
where everyone is looking down or through you
where your only hope is in getting lost
where everyone else is bored
where the planes don’t explode anymore
where phones die
where people wait for you to leave to ask you to stay
where survival is passion
where the sun and the moon and the earth are against everything
where you can fall in love with your own broken heart
II.
and if it sings it sings
and when it rains it roars
that new york will wait
but i might not