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I saw from the window of my ecstasy New York was lying underneath Like old widow still wearing black City of hopes and desires as I heard From the winds of my town Was ready to shine my shoes And strangle me with its silky smell Heaven was ready to be lodged But smile was erased from my face When the sparkling sand of snow Mixed in the tingling whirl of air muttered some words of dying glare and whispered in my ear I am twenty years late To catch even that so called train Of triumph, about which I heard From the winds of my town. New York, New York where should I go now There is no flight to Havana from here You scream but why don’t you speak New York. … Read entire article »