I Am a Patchwork Quilt

Suppose disintegrating into the soil is the best next place to be, surrounded by dirt and its worms chomping through. It's more there to me than it is to a student of suits. Yet in an encompassed environment, stemming wood from its fruit, we go laughing and brimming all cute. Still disguise yourself, child. The … Continue reading I Am a Patchwork Quilt

1858 Steinway Square Piano

I am an old piano Born in Manhattan. And with barely 70 keys, I still sit grand But not a Grand Piano. I'm ornate, it's true, And one-of-a-kind. A gift for a wealthy child at first But he never played me. I just sat in the corner of his room and looked pretty. Over the … Continue reading 1858 Steinway Square Piano

The Strand Shelving Shift

And I'm still half asleep as the morning bell sounds. I shower, shave, and make coffee. Forty-five minutes on the train to Union Square, where there are too many people sleeping on the ground. I take myself inside and the store's still in shadows-- And I'm going down stairs masked from the bit of daylight … Continue reading The Strand Shelving Shift