dash dip

Dash dip

Round the bend

Wind flies

Around my head

Children wave

Adults too

Whoops wrong way

I’m in the zoo!

Is that a tiger burning bright?

Is that a eagle taking flight?

Is that a donkey braying loud?

Is that a monkey prancing around?

Dash Dip

Round the bend

Wind Flies

Around my head;

I go up

I go down.

I ride my scooter

Around the town.

If you took time

If you took time

To count the rocks

You’d have a million trillion.

Turn them, turn them

Upside down;

We’d watch them fall

Across the mall;

 Our streets would be a rocky patch

Where we would walk—not drive.

Our schools would be a mess you see

From all the dust and stone.

And no dog no dog


Could ever find their bone.

The rocks would start another school

Where they would learn to stay;

They’d study hard

Get a job

They all would get an A.

When It’s almost day

When it’s almost day

There are so many things

I have to say

There was no peep from me

At night

But I had dreamed another life.

You didn’t go to work

You went to a shower;

Hour by hour

You added some lather;

The lather got big

Out the window you went

Driving to work in not a bike but a tent.

The tent went fast

Swooshed to a stop

All you could see was

A thousand rocks;

You never did hurry

The works was refreshing

Your family happy.

A big machine

Across the street

Makes a sound like crushing feet;

And when I look

Out my window

I see my neighbors scream.

Help! Help!

We have no legs!

That truck ran us over!

Now we’re all dead!

That’s why you never cross the street

Don’t ever ever cross the street

Don’t even think about crossing the street

Without a parent near you.

Deer without hands

What is it, sweety?


I saw a deer.

You saw a deer?



In my room.

There was a deer in your room?

I saw a deer in my room right there.

What did the deer do?

It went down the stairs.

Did it use the railing?

No, it didn’t have hands.

The deer didn’t have hands?


Were you scared?


Did the deer say anything?

No, it left the room with it’s friends.

What friends?

There were two other people.


Over here.

There were two other people in your room?


Did they talk to you?

No. They left my room and went down the stairs.

Did they hold the railing?

No, because they didn’t have hands.

The two people didn’t have hands?

No, and they couldn’t hold the railing.

Were you scared?


Did the two people have black hair?

Blonde hair?

Were they men or women?

Did they look like me or like mommy?

They looked like you.

(And hair stands on end.)

Subways and Stairs

I wake up to cabs screeching on the road.
Words that should not be spoken by very angry drivers.
Bright and early.
Good morning, New York City.
I walk with my dad to a bakery. L'imprimerie.
I get a shot of espresso. 
Enough to jack me up on caffeine and make up for my loss of sleeping in.
We leave, and walk around for a bit. 
We talk so much that I hardly notice my agonizing feet.
We eat pizza, pretzels, and lamb.
Credit to the food stand on North 3th street.
Then, Dad and I head down to the subway and hop on.
We arrive at Central Park and wait for my mom.
She arrives at around 1:00.
I say my greeting to my brother, and we play in the park.
Meet some other kids my age. Play a little bit of baseball,
The usual.
After Mateo and I are not able to move or breathe, Mom calls a taxi.
We go into Brooklyn and go shopping.
Mateo and I beg for something that is useless and that we will forget in a day.
But she still says yes, and we have joy for a few minutes.
Until one of us starts a fight.
Couple bruises, couple sore spots.
Also the usual.
We get home, and start the treacherous journey up the 13 stair cases.
Oh goody.
We get to our apartment, and eat some dinner.
Afterwards, we watch a movie (sometimes we eat dinner while watching the movie).
We say goodnight, and I head to bed.
Another beautiful day.
I fall asleep to the honks and yells.
Goodnight New York.

Rafael Zafir (age 13).


Only surround yourself with things you find beautiful. With things that bring you joy. If you are in your home and see something that does not give you joy… throw it out. get rid of it, donate it, offer it to a friend, but hurl it the fuck out of your window into the streets in a garbage or recycling can. It does not belong with you. It is not on your journey.

Look at this desk. I built this desk. I did not build the desk but I gathered the materials and told someone else exactly how I wanted it. Yes those shelves were already put together I only ordered them. Yes, my wife picked the color. I chose the wood on top. It WAS from Ikea. I think they’re normally used for a kitchen table. But I decided where it would go and I decided that it would be in this house. Now we are leaving this house and I am sorry that I am taking this thing with me. I love this thing. I love this furniture. I love this piece. It gives me great joy. I have worked very early in themonring and very late at night on this desk. I have provided food for my family on this desk. My wife provides food and clothes for our family from this desk.

Hey desk, maybe no one will mourn for you when. you die, and maybe you will never die, but one day soon you will have a different owner and for that it will be a death to me. I love you so much. I love everything you’ve given me. You have always been there. You have never faltered. I hope I brought you joy. I hope I deserved your beauty, elegance, and grit. I will always remember you. You were there when I rehearsed my lines, wrote my plays, poems, emails, and talked about changing the world while my fingers smashed down on a tired old keyboard. That word means nothing to you. Maybe all these words mean nothing to you. But you mean something to me. And I will forever be grateful.

I love you, and I know you will bring someone else joy. That is the meaning of you life, I think.

Everybody: Performance #2

Everybody 2
I was selected as EVERYBODY tonight, and I hadn’t played it in a week.
A lot has changed since that week.
We have been rehearsing the play right up to, and on opening night.
We have made changes in staging, choices in acting, changes in blocking.
Pretty much the gambit of what it takes to make a great night of theatre.
And it’s all par for the course, and you can whittle away at a piece of wood till it no longer exists, or a painting you can add dimensions to, and when do you stop? Do you stop?
I played EVERYBODY last night and it was such a great feeling.
I must remember that when
Continue reading Everybody: Performance #2

Everybody opened last night

Everybody Cast
Everybody is quite strange play.
Normally when I’m in a play, I always think that the offstage antics (induced by the play the company is performing) could very well be the impetus for another play. But ESPECIALLY for this one.

Five actors memorize five roles. And those roles are chosen by the actors through a live lottery onstage. No one knows who they will play, any night, ever.
This is an incredibly challenging feat for actors.
Most audience members Continue reading Everybody opened last night

Ode to Angry

(an Ode I wrote to my cast members of Twelve Angry Men)

Oh, rare and radiant men,
With whom I shared a cage;
Tis time to bid farewell,
To this classic of the American Stage.

Quiet, precise, and timely like the Swiss
Brandon was pensive and special.
His gymnastic notation as we improvised blocking;
Any wonder he writes in pencil?

The fire in our hearts,
The master of our cups,
My god, did this woman take a break?
And if it wasn’t ENOUGH,
Continue reading Ode to Angry

How to Teleport

So what do I do now?
This goddamn room.
This goddamn house.
This goddamn life.
So many books, papers, journals.
I found one of my old journals today.
I opened it up to see what my life was like, and it terrified me.
You know when someone tells you a story
“Man, I know this guy
who goes to work
and comes home
and eats crap all day
hates his job
That was me!
There are portions of my life I cringe at.

Here I am with bread baked,
bagels ready to be rolled,
banana nut muffins just outta the oven
and damn—I’m missing you kiddo.
I never wanted this for us.
You weren’t old enough to tell me what you wanted.

Maybe one day it’ll be different.
Maybe one day I’ll be different.
Bu today…

Oh, I forgot to tell you…
i was eating a banana
(I know you hate bananas)
and my daughter claimed up to where I was sitting
and she took a bite,
Then took my hand
holding the fruit
and pushed it to my mouth….
and i thought.
That was really sweet.
You would have liked that,
because it was a kind thing.
And that’s what everyone always says about you.
You’re such a kind
lovable boy I ever met.

Oh. And when i turned on the computer at night?
That’s the page I found open
How to Teleport.
If you ever figure it out
Let me know.

Elan Zafir’s misemployment of the run-on sentence