 |
| Rooftop on Delancey Street n Lower Manhattan, 2005. (JO'B) |
On a rooftop
At the center of her world
In a city of exceptions,
Above the rough edge of Chinatown,
A wordless poem of the heart,
The falling man of the HVAC,
A depth of bridge to Williamsburg,
Became her woods and valleys in the light,
Became her constellations in the night,
She found her peers,
Artists and writers and musicians,
Gentle, complex thinkers,
Laughers, quick to care,
And they found her,
Far too near the end
Of the last American Renaissance.
