The hours point to a conclusion:

New York,
The east coast for that matter,
Has been a very restive moment for me.

True enough,
Though I live in the comfort
Of many hills,

Oddly enough
Within the caverns of the
Metropolitan eastern corridor,

I am strangely
And calmly
At home!


In leaving then
In returning thus,

I guess the thing(s)
That’s on my mind the most
Is what I’ve missed,

Those I was unable to connect with
And the feeling that
Even in departing(again),
My heart will once again

Remain behind....

Reality, is often too compicated

Oddly enough, I discovered something I knew existed,
and yet, even in seeking out the discovery,
I'm still searching for the right words to describe it.

Me, I know you.
Not because of the obvious,
for that which is known
in all honesty, is quite obscured.

For me, looking at you,
I see some of myself,
and yet, honesty tells me
what we have in common,
is not that common after all.

Words then, are going to sound different
for under it all, is not the foundation
you've come to believe existed.

Me, I'm part,
but not quite contained
within the parcel.
You, you are also unique.

Should I bridge this?
Do I even have a choice?

In my mind,
the answer is simple.

And yet,
how will you react?

Though the answer is obvious,
the leap is great!

Care to believe?

For aside from the truth,
how else can the pain reside?

Tears are wasted.
Wine goes untasted,
and still, you're alone.

Alone, seeking the truth in others
who fail to connect,
alone in the truth of the others
who refuse to accept.

Still,
your tears remind me of hope.

Why is that?

Sunday morning in the city

And there are so many sights
and sounds to remind me that I'm home.

Gypsy cabs honking on the boulevard,
Korean cooks, and Haitian seamstresses,
each hustling to earn enough to send home to their families,
far from the crush of our immediate here and now home.

NY (Brooklyn to be precise),
not the home of my youth,
or even the home where I left my children to grow up within,
but home nevertheless!

Here, in the cradle of my immediate family,
still I long to see my sons and hear their laughter,
answer their questions and wipe away their tears.

But, as is often the case,
nothing lately is ever certain about
our being able to connect this time,
and in that, there is a deepr sadness that's harder to handle than
when I'm 3,000 miles away from this home.

@ this home, a neighbor
plays a piano somewhere done the block.
@ this home, Manuel stops in to show some
of his latest work, and we reminisce together
about all the moments missed since last
we were together here,
in this other place we've learned to call home.

Home, it's nice to be here,
nicer still to be closer to those
I've been so far away from in my absence,
and yet, this home, is so much less
than what I always dream it to be,
when I'm imagining it from the
distance of my other home,
in the valley where I dream about my home!

You know how

Late at night,
you can hear my voice
in your thoughts?

I wonder about that too.

Wonder about the connection
that remains unbroken,
even though the time
and the timing
of it all doesn't always
quite feel right.

And yet,
this night,
I could sense your hearing
and in that, my voice
grew stronger.

This
I liked
as well!

Thank you......