brooklyn
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in the hood of being beautiful/the N holds its breath like snow/soundless as disco/I search out the window for you/while we’re still close enough to Surf Avenue/I know I’m failing/running out of time/it’s me on the inside/and you on the out/I open Notes to write you a letter/the train seems to sigh/please let’s never die…
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you can take a walk through East New York, or Navy Hill, or Greenwood Heights, and one person will think these are really frightening, dangerous places and rush right out of there. and someone else will take their time and explore the history of those neighborhoods, sample the unusual foods and sounds on the streets,…
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winter arrives early and takes its place at the window. the sky this afternoon has filled the air with snowflakes. there’s a single ray of light now in my little apartment, pale and thin as the subway rail carrying the Q … from Prospect Park to 7 Av, then Atlantic, then DeKalb.
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leaving a lover, leaving a party, anything you leave, saying good-bye any time, has an ending. with a song, it’s hard to know when. because it’s a small invention. with no conclusions. when I write a song, I’m not theorizing anything. nothing comes together at the end, except the end and the beginning. a return to something as it…
cookie nieves 