Poetic License: New York Minutes
9:37 AM, September 1, 2001,
JFK Airport
never mind nanoseconds
we used to say
there is no time in the universe
like a New York minute
for getting it done
with speed and style
never mind the smile
try a New York minute
today is too late
tomorrow never comes
yesterday is the time
for a New York minute
not in L.A. or D.C.
London or Paree
Manhattan’s the place
for a New York minute
1:10 PM, September 2, 2001:
Manhattan streets I saunter, pondering
how my city is booming, changing,
scaffolding skeletoned over buildings being reborn,
cell phone voices darting by in all directions,
construction and traffic in constant cacophony –
but taxis still playing chicken with pedestrians,
buses belching like buffalos,
illegal parking everywhere –
welcome back lover, native son.
7:23 PM, September 7, 2001 (Times Square)
The old and the young, the chic and the tourists,
the shapers and the shapeless, the hopeless and the hip
the buyers and the beggars, the idle and the busy,
the blacks, whites, browns, yellows and rainbows,
all pounding and surging in thousands,
America singing East Side, West Side, on the sidewalks of New York –
my pulse up and revving again in New York minutes.
8:46 AM, September 11, 2001
(Sanibel Island)
O, the poetry I was bringing back!
In and out of love with you all over again,
Mannahatta of Walt Whitman,
your streets and sidewalks –
sauntered, strolled, meandered, dallied,
ambled and rambled upon
by all your poet sons and daughters –
I was set like them to celebrate
and sing your energy,
the majesty of your towers and spires,
set also to catalogue your contradictions,
rue your faults, forgive your indifference.
O, the praise and ironies I would wring
from my latest two weeks in New York –
but on this morning
as the whole CNN’d world watches,
America’s heart stops beating
while the new millennium
of terror and consequences is spawned
in humanity’s newest, most horrible moment:
the September 11 New York minute –
like no time in the universe.
10:15 AM, September 11, 2010
Manhattan streets I walk again, watching
scaffolds rise on buildings being reborn
refilling the temporary vacancies in the sky,
cell phone voices singing all around me,
construction and traffic
in ringing cacophony,
the heartbeat of America
and all the glowing cities of the world
pulsing stronger than ever
in New York minutes –
like no time in the universe.