Tagged: messenger

the point of art is

the point of art is
to start a conversation –
deep in bushwick, one

messenger to another
messenger, years in between

steps behind, we may

steps behind, we may
never catch up – to the
urgency of a city
messenger, a delivery
service meeting its
weekend quota, a
breadwinner with
mouths to feed – sitting
on the couch,
debating the use
of the word immigrant
versus expatriate

all day, i keep

all day, i keep
forgetting that you
left us this morning,
and even now, when
i quiet my heart to
take in the news, i
hear old news, when
you called eight years
ago to say that he’s
gone, and do not be
sad, it was so peaceful,
you were reading to him
as he sat in his favorite
chair, and then
you were reading.
tonight, i am not ready
for the details just yet.
there are no brave
messengers. you are
gone, but not yet gone