if this is happiness

how shall we leave it,
if this is grief, how to enter it,
if this is just a rented room,
where are the doors, the stairs,
the streets, the endless city.

Excerpt from  ‘R E T U R N   T O   T H E   C A P I T A L’   by   D.  N U R K S E


14th Street, Union Square

I wrote this between train stops and transfers
Remember, life is casual:

Commands in every window,
Pretty people making eye contact
and looking away. 

going up

My fly is unzipped.

Just like the Vietnamese philosopher
that cornered me in elevator conversation said:
I’m trapped in an eight-year old’s body.
Standing before the N section on the 4th floor,
he waited for my reflection to speak something profound
of his Microsoft-painted Vermeer.
It was a confused copy, screaming Fauve,
Woman-In-A-Hat’s sister,
a sorry separation.

I backed away and shuffled books on the shelves,
faking interest in titles on technology
and gender.

—From prose, drafted 01/24/11

the wind, one brilliant day

I had promised my friend Thom months, and months, and months ago that I would design him a postcard with the words of Antonio Machado’s poem, The Wind, One Brilliant Day. I am a promise-keeper, but not a timeline-keeper (usually), so I still do plan to finish this for Thom (as he has helped me out so much through my collegiate years and beyond).
The plan is to release the poem on here, line by line, until I’ve completed all eight lines of Wind.

• • • • •

(As an aside, I’ve been trying to get motivated + work — seriously — since I moved here, and am diligently attempting to correct the two things I’ve felt have kept me from art: The proper equipment and a good desk + chair to work at.

(Well, I got the computer programs I “need” [or just really, really wanted] and the other day I scooped a 1950’s kitchen table for two, complete with fold-down leaves, off the curb.  Still working on the chair part, but for now — let there be a fauxstudio!)