026/100 • PHILADELPHIA
Writer’s Block Rehab:
creative inspiration
with every sip.
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Writer’s Block Rehab:
creative inspiration
with every sip.
Giant skyscrapers
disappear into the mist,
consumed by a cloud.
Gramercy at dusk,
on the way home from errands —
with something for you.
Words like Liberty
make me pause on the sidewalk —
thank you, Langston Hughes.
First droplets of rain
fall on the back of my hand
as I duck inside.
A garden party
in the making … I just need
a few vintage chairs.
Bare trees, bare ankles —
sidewalk shadows make new shapes
of a new season.
Trading frosty days
for frostee cones — signaling
warmer days to come.
Breakfast for dinner:
because some weeks require a
quiet Friday night.
Jeans, boots, blazer, phone:
a “disruptor” uniform —
oh, the irony.
Unwavering guards —
sentinels on the skyline,
watching the city.
Water, soap, lather …
The mirror begins to fog.
Rinse the day away.
Art every day —
It’s harder than it looks, kids.
Don't try this at home.
Adrift and unmoored,
I’m lost in the stacks again …
drowning in stories.
A portrait, a look,
beginning to develop —
time to load more film.
Thirty-nine today;
another trip ‘round the sun —
striving for forty.
Buddha smiles sweetly,
sparkling among the crystals
on Madison Ave.
Hair everywhere.
Gossip, laugh, reinvention —
Make me someone new.
Bodega coffee,
bagel, kebab, pizza slice:
eat cheap, while you walk.
It should be spring now,
but I wear a winter coat:
April in New York.