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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