A smile for a while
A grin for a time
A laugh, one chuckle
No money for a rhyme-----
D
O
W
N
B
  E
L
  O
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A poet goes
Hoping to get just one
View---- a poet is born
By the millisecond
A window of
opportune.
Some poets dream
Of Mars
Some the stars, sun and moon.
Some are rich and some are poor-----
Some have houses
Yet no money for a bedroom door
Some poets write with pens
Others write with their teeth,
Other poet's write with pain and excite
Some poets write rapping streets
Some poets write of amor, some write of drug use
Of their future's in store.
Some poets write for fun and play
Some write of their deaths
Some in June and may
Some poet's change their lives
As others write sweet lullaby's
Some poets are me and you
The someone's are somebody's
That someone is you.

The lightning crackles
Like a rattlesnake rattles
The sun burns weary
evaporating the teary
The soul unfolds in sin
squeezing life out of wind
Stay down upwind
of my ginaceous grin
My favor is South
always South . . .
by Southwest

You make me smile
Till the lips curve
Into crescents
And eyes become slits.

You make me smile
Till the nose goes up
And the spectacles come down
And the cheeks rise like tides
With laughter lines.

You make me smile
Till the pearly whites show -
A toothy flash
Though sometimes, no.

You make me smile
From ear to ear
From here to there
Like a rainbow in the sky.

You make me smile
From my face to my toes
And toes to my knees
You make me smile
And long after
Somewhere,
The smile
Stays within me.

Fingers
Wrapped around
The soft spine
Of your back neck
Doused in blue
Did we run the streets,
Dripping in blue body paint?

I saw the pink roses
Pretty and thorned
My bleeding hands,
Were unforgiving
The clock
Was unforgiving
I cried that whole night.

Dreams of Africa
On a safari
Looking up at a starry night sky,
I skipped through an orchard,
Singing a child's lullaby

My mind is a reflection of madness,
But you said you wanted more,
You tasted the sadness,
Swelling from my pores
Your eyes are porcelain
Static on a screen

The hummingbirds are calling
In their iridescent beauty
They drag me by my collar,
Into a land of whimsical triviality,
Where I hum with bees,
The rainbow is my palet from which I paint
Fighting off reality,
Reveling in insanity.

I was in 2nd grade when the twin towers were hit. I remember all the children in my class one by one being picked up from school. I had no idea at that point what was going on, but I was so jealous. I wanted to go home early from school. Eventually, my Aunt picked me and my cousin up. She told us about the towers as we walked home. I could see the thick, montrous black smoke of the fallen towers from the street I lived on in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. We went inside and turned on the television. Report after report confirmed the devastating aftermath of the attack.
●
My mother was in Manhattan, for she was a secretary at the Wall Street Journal. At the moment the towers were hit, she was just arriving, walking towards her job that was located in a building right across the street from the twin towers. But what she saw bewildered her. Hoards of people covered in white ash were running in the opposite direction of where she was headed. She asked one of these people what they were running from, and they frantically responded that the twin towers had been attacked. After learning this, she walked to my Grandmother's job in midtown Manhattan. They later arrived home safely.
●
Looking back at this recollection of my 2nd grade self, I have to admit I wasn't traumatized by these events personally. But in retrospect I can see now how it had affected all those around me. On the ten year anniversary of September 11th, Paul Simon sang Bridge Over Troubled Water at a memorial service in New York. As I watched it on the news, the lyrics filled my heart with warmth. What I suggest, through the healing of old traumas and in the handling of new wounds, is that we make ourselves a bridge to others, a source of stability in an uncertain world. This is described so beautifully within Simon's song: "When you're weary, feeling small, When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all, I'm on your side, Oh when times get rough, And friends just can't be found, Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down, Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down." Through every unexpected tragedy, if we come together as a community, the most horrific pain will inevitably shrivel in the light of sefless love.

Let us hunker down...

Let's submit to each other's embrace,
and may our arms form
our very own private sanctuary.

Let us be shielded
from the debris and shrapnel
of malicious intent.

Let our fingers be free
to wipe the dirt and tears
from each other's eyes.

Let us be afraid together,
for in this cocoon,
there may yet be some mettle.

Let us still be sheltered...
For the storm is not yet over.