Interstate

Interstate

We are not
interfaith
nor
inter race
but in fact
interstate.

The Hudson River
causes a great divide,
the grass seemingly
greener
on each
respective
side

Battle lines drawn over
where we will reside

The Garden state
are where my roots
lie,
hailing from a
square mile town
summer spent at Seaside
feasting on
cheese steaks
lemonade
pink cotton candy.

Him, a rare breed of
Native New Yorker
pumping with a
Harlem Heartbeat
A sage of subway shortcuts.

Now
we are Inwood living
spacious apartment
high ceilings

The One train providing
a gentle serenade

Hearing bachata
y tipico
bursting from the streets
Seeking the Icee lady
and snacking on dollar empanadas

Working together
to build
our new home,
smells of fabuloso
and baked chicken.

Seeing Jersey
from Harlem’s Riverside
Finding subway grates
Marked Harrison, NJ
Campbell foundry made

My Garden state
is only three
heels click away.

Poetry Book Review

Poetry Book Review

Hello fellow bloggers,

I’d like to take a small departure from my regular poetry writing and review my friend Kevin Marquez’s book “Towards the Question Mark” available on Amazon.com

Towards the Question Mark provides a poetic insight as to what it is like growing up in New York City. The poetic narrator takes the reader on a journey through family strife, of loves born and lost. As a reader, you find yourself rooting this poetic narrator on. Kevin uses a variety of poetic forms to convey different aspects of a native New Yorker’s life.
There are some academics that question the legitimacy of Spanglish in literary works, Kevin’s use of Spanglish ,however, in selected poems represent the voice of this generation of Latino writers. I invite you all to join this writer’s journey. It provides a window to one man’s trial and tribulations with the Big Apple as the setting.

Use the link below to purchase a copy.

http://tinyurl.com/towardsthequestionmark

Happy reading and writing everyone!

The Cathedral

The Cathedral

Take me to where
the Sultan of Swat
was king,
where 1918 chants
still echo.

A place that pulsated history
Legends were palpable
Take me to where
Gehrig stood on a mound
and said, “Today
I consider myself the luckiest
man on Earth.”
where a Captain
oh my Captain
was declared Mr. November.

Baseball’s Bronx Bombers
the 4 train ride
previewed the inside.
The bleacher seats
were comfortable
and congregation place
for creatures.

Families and friends
united
for America’s past time
Stadium traded in
for a plastic
second wife

Now demolished
but through
bittersweet memories
has life.