Inspired by the recent tragic events, in Orlando, Florida, Anthony Ruiz has written a new poem, which you may read below or which you may watch, as he recites it for you at: Pulse 6/12/16 There is something in the air today It’s not right It’s not fair today 49...
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Jack Every Sunday morning his breath reeked with Jack Talk about routine Woke up in Brooklyn But you live in Queens New York City subway passengers can be so mean You see The same gold chain that in the light used to gleam Was ripped off of my neck As I was trapped in...
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An Ode to My Queen Baby You had me at birth I was delivered on your turf You own me These feet Pace dingy streets Proudly My Queen, Queens A dreamer Born in the city of dreams You raised me Skin As thick as the accent Diversity My borough Suburban life With urban accents...
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A Grin For The Win Pity Instead of steam Rises from your stained Coffee cup Light swivel of the wrist A calling for change In whatever form Quarters Pennies Life If a swivel of the wrist Could change your life Laugh lines tell a story Of a man who still smiles Before...
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Christopher Street: A Love Affair I regret our first date Took the 1 train to Sheridan Square Chris I met you there I was consumed by your Intoxication Your representation Of liberation Providing elation Freedom rang As those train doors opened up into Corruption Loud freaks of the night carrying on Drug...
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Katty by Anthony Ruiz Today It was a beautiful day to say bye to you The sun was shining The skies were blue for you Flowers arranged from yellows To pinks To whites To blues All to bid farewell to you Your calls won’t be received anymore Those random chats I used to...
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My City, A Christmas Spectacle by Anthony Ruiz Cynicism is set aside for the Yuletide The concrete jungle is glittered with snow My city, illuminated by Macy’s festive windows Telling tales of Kris Kringle Of presents and bows Ice skating in the park Central or Bryant Rockefeller Center home to the...
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Camaraderie by Anthony Ruiz “I have HIV” he said, inaudible over the blaring noise of cars rushing home to make it for supper. “Are you serious?” I replied, mouth too dry to even swallow. My first instinct, naturally, was to reach over the clutch of his 2002 Honda Accord and hug him. ...
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