Though it is that place I wish to be,
I’m lost inside my own travesty.
As well I seek solace amongst masses
hide within a world of classes.
Such is imagery of teeming lives
caught inside streaming archives.
Where alone a face in the crowd
somehow is always allowed.
I once read a master speak satire
He’d suggested how he might retire.
A brilliant life so seemed is the giver
they fished him out of the East river.
Even while hidden among archetype
our lives matter far beyond those type
who caress the mystique of scrutiny,
always a cry out loud for security.
I would if the streets would allow release
On Bleecker street, begin to find my peace.
What Crosses My Mind 
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