9/11: and 9/14, 9/16, 9/17, 9/20.

Collective Gasp.

On 6th Ave and Waverly, down they tumbled,
together we watched the towers of mighty, how small
we were next their grandeur one moment,
how small we are.
Humbled together, crushed - a pancake of hatred,
not sweet.
No doubt, we are in this together;
we are all, sons with knives.
9/14/2001 nyc.
cp


The Devil’s Cigar.

Thunderous rivers of billowing smoke,
alone with the night, my throat and I choke.
I wonder, I wonder and really I pray,
I sit and I ponder, away and away -
a child, a father, a mother, a land, wherever i go,
it’s Destiny’s plan. A decision, a way, of how not to be:
I’ll travel the road, my own history.
The Lesson before me is simple and clear,
kindness I honor, and all I revere.
9/16/2001, nyc
cp

Sound & Sight.

To everyone, everywhere, N.Y.C.: BIG, LOUD!
It's quiet now: church bells & sirens;
the police officers and firemen: NOT THE SAME.
It's a small town with ghost streets,
At the liquor store on 6th ave, u can hear their "OPEN" neon sign buzzing.
After 10PM, at Spring and Houston, Mister Softee is serving a large crowd:
transfixed on the new amusement park.
9/17/2001, nyc.
cp

Acrid Rain.

i want them to be found,
uncovered with cheer,
i see them and hear them,
3,000 clear. they’re inside a big box
of metal I’m sure, protected
and waiting, extremely secure .

a blue day so quiet with birds
in the sky, folks walk like a zombies
with frankenstein eyes. i stop and i tremble with
others that pray, our teardrops are rivers
near pictures they lay.

it’s gloomy and wet, unlike yesterday,
the smoke that’s been
rising is hidden away.

a new moment i cherish, a game that i play,
i say over and over, they’re not far away.
they’re inside this big box, sealed tight and quite safe,
i know it and feel it, but then i awake.
a smell that is drifting, a seared odor from then,
it’s september 11th all over again.
September 20, 2001, nyc.
cp