Manhattan Poem

city of deep personal enclaves,

rabbit warrens to avoid

the ever-present sheep pens;

stay deep

and be ever watchful.

The soul is called out of hiding for special occasions.

Here I am.

I will walk the streets as though invulnerable, and

I will bless the pavement with each step,

I, who seek the cosmic stream to dip my toes in

--shod in lead

but light on my feet--

come along and fly over the sparse treetops on my gravity-defying song,

sing harmony, and seek with me

The Great Chord.

(Disregard that car alarm.)

--Art Gatti