off to roosevelt island
with honey in my coffee.


please hold on
and the cablecar lifts off
the ride is too thrilling
to even think about writing.

halfway across the east river
to a strange and powerful island
by climbing through the air
on giant metal ropes

out the window a pigeon
on the wing
navigates air currents
cuts shapes in air 
with feathers
at such a height for a human
in a cablecar to be
awestruck by winged grace.









why i am
a nomad: