dublinka

Here's and extract from a poem by Martín Espada. It's pure New York poetry: beautiful, carefree, and stargazing.

A Mayan Astronomer in Hell's Kitchen

—9th Avenue and West 48th Street, New York, October 1998

Above the deli in Hell's Kitchen where the fire erupted,
above the firefighters charging with hoses like great serpents,
above the fingerprints of smoke smearing the night,
above the crowd calling his name with titled faces,
above the fire truck and its ladder reaching for him,

....

a Mayan astronomer in Hell's Kitchen
watching galaxies spiral in the fingerprints of smoke,
smoking a cigarette.