dear blizzard, you can’t take these memories of heat or the hope of spring
light is only light when we accept the darkness unchecked, the heat kills.
snow is permission to eat leftover cookies too cold for a run
the world begins, ends, does not ask our permission. (but never say yes!)
curiosity kills cats, but not brooklynites (rules are for breaking)
“down here” and “up there” might not be so far apart night comes for us all
color, chaos, sky the first map of the new world was nothing like this
gravity swears we rise, then fall. (maybe this time is the exception)
love the broken parts treasure the hole in your head let things fall apart
if we must break down let us not do it alone even grown men cry
outside the city I see the grass is green, but how I miss the cage!
before we were born men climbed stairs to speak to gods (the sky answered back)
take your twisted mind and drown it deep in the sea with those weird fishes
note: there are two cannes a mad one lives on the ground, the other’s above
and when “here” and “there” have built a wall between them you must climb the fence
some wait on the edge not believing in summer she sees them, jumps in
a somber gaze seeks the day that isn’t raining the eyes that look back
birthday serenades growing older’s not so bad (even the dog sang)
a song for someone who cannot hear him playing (she can see the stars)
below the surface lies the rust we tried to hide but, oh! how it lives
wolf’s resolutions: stop hunting, start jogging, smile, don’t eat little girls.
toes at a crossroads consult the others, decide to keep heading north
chromatic love bleeds from warehouse bricks. “i love you” waits for an answer.
head for the light, child. all the poor stars in Brooklyn can’t outshine your sun
“the words we don’t say are the ones heard the loudest” an old man stops, sighs
the silent screen told stories she never believed “Truth was a liar.”
years after he left signs of the circus remained — the stars for her sky
we choose teams, then beg to touch the other side’s grass (it’s always greener)
thirty-two springs say “another chance, little thing - make it a good one.”
decide not to bloom and I will notice. we all unfold for someone
little lives explode sleepy brains wake up to dream i needed you, spring.
life (being fuzzy) does not answer our questions. “sigh” was all he said
these boots are made for leaving, but feet get tired and think of settling
we do not live in perfect little houses. our windows sometimes crack.
squirrel has a day job keeping the peace. brooklyn streets need a protector
single brew morning single thought wanders through walls single voice says yes
east village jam, man my saturday is wasting the loveliest way.
proof that life returns after frozen brooklyn months bring me daisies, love.
analog message: beware the big, blue monsters (we created them)
aliens at home watching from the brick, waiting for the perfect time
let’s get moving, trees bare branches say winter; spring is pushing blossoms
brooklyn waking up whispers, doesn’t shout. morning is meditation.
new york doesn’t want your love. central park trees bloom with or without you.
she stood there and waved. the trains that were departing did not know her name
the clouds are in charge the ground decides when to scream we are not earth-proof
“don’t hold on to this” some things get frozen in time (fleeting frightened hands)
perhaps promises are made to be broken, or perhaps i just got lazy, or was uninspired, or was (more likely) uninspiring. dear little haiku life, my apologies for letting you fall into disrepair. i’m back, and promise (there go the promises again) to take better care of you. holly
the rooster cradles a sleeping christ. our decay provides the backdrop
a city that breathes, leaving its servants breathless— new york wants it all.
lola with her hat hears songs that make her wonder when she will arrive