A Museum

Their ghosts press in on me, still screaming demanding they be heard. They press with the weight of 1362 feet of steel. They refuse to be ignored I must know their weight and carry it though I know none of them they are not my kinsmen. Yet I strain to listen and bear their weight I …

Laudromat

We jumped (tumbled, wandered) into the rain, down the stoop onto the sodium-lit street. We had a direction in mind, so ran, huddled, laughed our way, until, whilst taking brief shelter under a small awning, we were intrigued by a group of people outside a laundromat. A closed, darkened laudromat at 11pm (was it 11? …

Moment Lab

All these words come toward me through clasped hands and eager eyes tightly shut. I am water, a river, flowing fast, steady, confident, light, heavy forward and large, blue a field sun but without that sunset sunlight. Hands touch softly I'm arrested pinned and see-through hesitant now open, an energy, a furrowed brow a cautious …

Sunday

A saxophone plays in Central Park, New York City. A warm breeze blows like an armistice over boulders and across wild grass, carrying birdsong - one among myriad languages that pop and fizz around street vendors beneath their umbrellas. A mustard and ketchup smile spreads over my face. Everyone is themselves, And I am me, And …