BY | Posted on | FILED UNDER Categories Queens, Vaticinate


On the local train

the seer in the corner rhapsodizes

to all, but really to himself, he knows

what is good and true, but he’s lost sight. 

He sleeps fitfully splayed across the bench

a waking dream, recurring nightmare,

the lullaby of Next stop

36th Street

and Steinway

and Northern Boulevard. 


I’m going home,

I’m going home.

Melanie Daly

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