Beacon Theatre

Broadway glows
Marquee heat
The West Side
Smells like this
A cupcake
Some comte
Nicotine
H & H
Linen sheets
Old Talbots
Worn Filene's
The Greengrass
Of Barney
Riverside
Down by there
Strollers dodge
Hudson gales
Fresh dog shit
In a dish
Fluffy knish
In the can
Trash, it is
Treasured, it's not
Hay Fever
Swarms the eyes
Slows the nose
Not the nails
Of my hand
Of my mind

A Pilot

Back in the day
We were young
Not children
Nor adults
But young
Hanging out
With dialogue
Without monologue
Heights style
Under peach trees and Georgia breezes
We reset the video
Amplified the speakers
Turned up the mikes
The film has not unwound
Since you are a now a manager
While I perform through dreams
A duet could fill those clouds
Distance may dissipate them