i gotta get ready...

i'm trying to get myself prepared for what i'm gonna see when i get to new york on friday...


flying over the hudson, the skyline resewn to close the hole left by the missing twin towers

aswad's tall form standing with his hair covered in baggage claim at la guardia

the arteries clogged with clots of yellow cabs, moving emboluses of buses and cars congesting the arteries in the heart of manhattan

green newp.ort cigarette signs with brown people wearing black lips smoking white sticks tipped in curling grey smoke while orange letters tell us they're 'alive with pleasure'

naked trees standing forlorn in small parks dealt like cards to scatter in green squares across a concrete table littered with the ashes of city living

steep steps slipping down into the subway's twisted intestines stuffed with both the substance and waste residing on new york's plate.

trains packed with bodies in varying stages of evolution, their spirits in varying stages of elevation

the 'j' tossing the black cloak from its body as it hits the bridge and races naked across the tracks

the sun painting the cramped and damaged forms of the car's inhabitants into hues of golden amber

broadway draped in the elevated track's shadowed pattern of grey and black plaid edged in the spanish lace of bodegas

a brown-stoned brownstone gated to keep men from dying on the steps

a kitchen lined in enamel moments stuck in china cabinets

a living room designed in animal prints tamed into submission onto wall and carpet

a bedroom where my memories of a child in summertime will be hiding

a bed where my uncle, her son, on december 27 2005 finally died in

the same bed in which my granny, his mother, now lies in

the thing that took him now killing her within


momma wants to talk to me to prepare me for what i'll see

i'll never be ready...