New York Homecoming Haiku

The canny chaos,

the minty energy—oh,

the wonderful noise!

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Author: amba12

Continuing the conversation that started at AmbivaBlog ...

10 thoughts on “New York Homecoming Haiku”

  1. It’s not that you have returned to the Hive; it’s that it just has something approaching a lover of the queen; but it’s Sheba; the queen of the South; but I will call her Beulah; now an Ephraim softly steals in: to steal out the Door; again

    It’s the prodigal son and the mistake he doesn’t make this time: to let her get away a second time; it’s Solomon and Sheba at the end; but it’s the Kingdom: and the Soul of that Kingdom…..

  2. My stuff ain’t here yet. I’m hoping the super will paint Monday before it comes.

    The building looks like shit — I don’t think the landlord has vacuumed the stairs since I left in 2006. (That’s an exaggeration, but not much of one. He certainly has not painted the hallways.) The super is the same Hispanic kid — 5 years less of a kid — but his English is EXACTLY as it was 5 years ago: nonexistent. (And every time I try to say something in Spanish, Romanian comes out.)

    The ever-disappointed, coke-fried Vietnam vet jazz musician jived up and resumed the EXACT same conversation he was having with me 5 years and 5 minutes ago — about how things are just about to pop for him.

    It amazes me that people don’t get bored with themselves.

  3. Glad you made it! It would drive me nuts but it’s home to you. Hope people and events don’t conspire to disappoint you. When Thomas Wolfe said “You can’t go home again”, he wasn’t thinking of NYC. Did you score a job yet?

  4. Wwoman of purpose and courage,
    How well your haiku expresses you.
    Be challenged–and content in your life.

  5. Pat — for the time being I have plenty of steady freelance science editing work, which is how I like it best. Freelancing can always change, but then, so can and do jobs, these days!

  6. I wanted so much to tell Jacques about the jazz musician. He would’ve cracked up. And I miss his ability to see beneath the surface of the street. It added another depth dimension to the city that I can’t see by myself. He saw the power structure, the intersecting drives and appetites, the marks and hustlers and predators. He was a naturalist of the underworld.

  7. Without that guide, I’m just a tourist. I look but I don’t know (or care, really) what I’m seeing. He cared because it had impinged on his ability to make a living and to protect people he cared about. It was vital to know who was who and what they were up to. He also had the chops to intervene and change the course of events. He was a force. I’m just another piece of city flotsam. (And loving it.)

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