A Collector of Rain

“I am reciting the rain caught in my spleen

These lips can not swim

Only my breast wild as black waves

I met the collector of rain once who went to sleep in my sleeve

Is his alibi still under my arm?

I keep coughing up butterflies

My entrails trail albinos’ tunes

His voice cums in my hair

Is the flesh tender where the knees weep?
Is the flesh tender where the knees weep?
Is the flesh tender where the knees weep?”

Sonia Sanchez ~ Humbled (2006)
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I was walking down Broadway jamming to something on my iPod and not really caring about the rain. Actually the rain felt good.

Before going underground, I spotted this gentleman.

I assumed he was homeless because of the smell & gross bags that he was carrying.

No matter what his actual social situation was, he mos def had swag.

It’s all in the glasses!

Check here to view more of my NYC Analog Street Portrait series.