Tonight at Shrine–somewhere between the Caribbean jams and scotch shooters–Mauricio, a regular who sips on Red Bull pitchers, pointed to a framed poem propped upon the bar and said, “Read this.” It was written by D. Ellis, and I wish I had snapped a photo.
Mauricio gave me D. Ellis’s “business” card that had his Twitter handle:
His Twitter poems have a light and airy feel, like a morning mist evaporating or bare shoulders & exposed arms on the first hot day of Summer.
“July- I held you so tight.. all through the night….until the morning…you left while I was sleeping…I can still feel you on my skin….”
“Storm- Gone but the evergreen trees remain bronze the sun shines upon it glistening in the air.. birds stare at it shaking their heads….”
“Honey In Harlem- James Brown is still alive in these streets..Even Coltrane played for me the other night…as i walked down Lenox…”
“Greyhound- Tears rolling down his face….looking out the window…selling coke back and forth…. from New York to Virginia…..”
Who are you, D. Ellis?