groundhog day
letters to man, mother and God
finally
last night
during prime time
in pre-washed skinny jeans
i woke up.
but only now,
by my window,
the sun,
bright and full of bounty
and riding on the back of
my neighbor’s yellow-eyed cat,
pushes me awake.
(Source: youtube.com)
Santiago y Miguel
Today I see man
As an open wound
Dancing at the discotheque
Wearing band-aids and rhinestones.
a song for a plea #1
Williamsburg Bridge.
tonight and on most nights, this is home.
To Man
My mornings are yours. Forever yours. As are my nights and middays.
I write for you. I wake for you. I sleep unwillingly. The sun, your sun, mounts the earth in search of what you once were and at times are still.
He searches for you as do I. If by chance you walk into a coffee shop for a multigrain muffin and an iced coffee, give yourself time to read my letters.
Know that I miss you and wait for your return.
-your son, your father, your brother, Anthony
the new frontier
One hundred and fifty years ago, the new frontier, limited only by lack of imagination, was the West. Man painted masterpieces over borrowed canvases using American industrialization, the science of black powder and the Christianization of the soul.
Today, as we sit in judgment of men and vice, of misguidance and ignorance and of the brutality of dreams achieved, we see before us the opening of a new frontier. It holds remnants of life as it once was and sparkles of what it is shaping out to be.
Where are we expanding to now? What might and ingenuity will get us there? What will science uncover and what form will our soul take?
