With the east coast of the United States on my mind, I remember a poem I wrote in 2001 when a hurricane hit New York. It is strange to now be the one far away from the storm. I fear for my friends and family and all people under the monster storm. Sending love...


The invisible signs of summer

Switch me over to September style.


There was a hurricane in

New York City last night.


It knocked upon my window panes.

It murdered seven people.

It made me late.

It made me cry.

It created a space in heaven

for the insane

(which today includes the nearly-sane).


At night,

that’s what I become:

terrifyingly frozen in time.

Nearly hit by storms.

Nearly Sane.