ode to artists

Between sidewalk cracks
Like weeds
We find our space and silence

In junctions and alleyways
Crooks and crannies
Hidden everywhere
Small places for artists to hide and thrive

New York City

We dive behind stone archways
To write
Before time overtakes us and
We slip back into the rhythm of the subway
With the rest

So many rhythms to feed us
We have to fight to find our own
To listen to the internal rhythm
the heartbeat bloodflow breath and tummy rumble
Digest the noises and the fumes
And convert to words on a page
To make space for change

We are the underlings
We take the underground
Capturing the spirit you forgot to feel
Noticing the faces you forgot to see


In a culture which has forgotten to look up
Mind the gap
The space between

We scribble in the margins
Recentering the marginalized
Lest we forget

As time is overtaken
By construction workers
Turning brick to steel to plastic to wireless network
We rebel in our presence

We send secret messages
Our code: face to face
Easily overlooked
By those hooked into facebook
Eyes displaced
We are desperate to save this race
From its own power misplaced

Do you remember what a day spent buried in a book felt like?
[the smell of paper]
Do you remember not knowing what time it was?
[the light through the window]
Do you remember hearing your mind think?
[the sound of wonder]

We do.
We strive to.
We sip real time
At any chance
And savour it.
Desperate to salvage the relic of our humanity
before we turn to plastic.
We will remind you of your heartbeat
when your idea of your self is too loud for you to hear it.

Between sidewalk cracks
Like weeds
We survive
Waiting to find our light
So we can bring you back to life.



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