Intro

O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays

Their last upon mine anguish gaze!

Beside this desk, at dead of night,

Oft have I watched to hail thy light:

Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,

With soothing power, thy radiance stole!

In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,

Freely, some mountain height sublime,

Round mountain caves with spirits ride,

In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,

And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew

My spirit, in thy healing dew!

Goethe: Faust I.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Transit Penalty



My home is Harlem
But I am not on holiday
I'm more than lost
This time and this trip
Reminds me of everything
I love.

In Tito Puente, Ella, and
The express that either
Never got me all the way home
Or let me sleep
Until 4Am 207th/5th

French transit cops don't
Look too sympathetic today
And the 4:21 is, although
So inviting, certainly
Ominous in its scheduling

Nevermind the fact
That they storm the train
As it pulls out of the station.
Published by G. Etranger at 1:17 PM

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