(click pic to enlarge) (credit: Gisela Fabian 1943 - 2004. Description: New York Fantasy Year: 1978 Dimension: 24"x30")
After all these years still bathed in Times Square Neon in early weekday afternoon
Moods of Auld Manhattoe never can be denied
Roaring subways still roar even with strange electric trains singing eerie dissonant electronic whistle of revving up to go down the track
Clocks in the subway cars and notifications of where you have stopped
Good for a laugh when computer gets bollixed and you see the wrong next stop announced in red lit letters
So I don't need a watch at least not on the train
Bergdorf's still standing in new Millenium along with Henri Bendel. Going farther East is upstart Barneys where retail desire goes utterly insane Many chain restaurants of various ethnic foods to be eaten by Midtown worker bees, even wealthy ones. But still the steam tables which lure with endless choices, steaming. Broadway booms with billion dollar productions on its narrow lane, where getting a post-show taxi or any kind of ride is problematic.
Politics and history of our time, oh, look at those sad people, they can't stop. Almost cartoon-like greed So obvious But they can't stop. My greed no less than theirs but through great good fortune I am not a billionaire Or even a millionaire Whew! We're in a Play, yes we are and it doesn't matter the part but to understand the story. Perhaps you are one of the targets of the greedy people who have way too much for them to stop wanting more Hunter or prey, Clown or savior Only way to know the part Is to stop and look and not be moved by the exquisite drama and heightened feeling of self. Even an actor who knows the lines backward and forward has to be present on the stage.
stones drop upon me and sticks hit me, sometimes pie in the face. like anyone else, random bumps in life how know any different that You aim your bow with full free awareness, elegantly pull back and unerringly shoot the arrow exactly where you aim. like the woman Saraha was so taken by back in the day, in brief glimmers every suffering becomes treasure arrow from you, Kurukulle.