BroadwayBy Mark Doty

Mark Doty

• Born in Maryville, Tennessee in 1953 • Earned Bachelor of Arts from Drake University in Des

Moines, Iowa • Earned his Master of Fine Arts at Goddard College in

Vermont where he met Wally Roberts, his long time intimate friend

• Published his first collection of poems, Turtle, Swan,, in 1987

• Writing took a darker change when Wally was tested positive for HIV in 1989

• His book My Alexandria won numerous awards.• When Roberts died in 1994, Doty wrote another book of

poems entitled Atlantis, (1995), which also won numerous awards.

• He is currently teaching a graduate program at the University of Houston

“Broadway”Under Grand Central's tattered vault    --maybe half a dozen electric stars still lit--        one saxophone blew, and a sheer black scrimbillowed over some minor constellation    under repair. Then, on Broadway, red wings        in a storefront tableau, lustrous, the live macawspreening, beaks opening and closing    like those animated knives that unfold all night        in jewelers' windows. For sale,glass eyes turned outward toward the rain,    the birds lined up like the endless flowers        and cheap gems, the makeshift tables

of secondhand magazines    and shoes the hawkers eye        while they shelter in the doorways of banks.

So many pockets and paper cups    and hands reeled over the weight        of that glittered pavement, and at 103rd

a woman reached to me across the wet roof    of a stranger's car and said, I'm Carlotta,        I'm hungry. She was only asking for change,

so I don't know why I took her hand.    The rooftops were glowing above us,        enormous, crystalline, a second city

lit from within. That night    a man on the downtown local stood up        and said, My name is Ezekiel,

I am a poet, and my poem this evening is called    fall. He stood up straight        to recite, a child reminded of his posture

by the gravity of his text, his hands    hidden in the pockets of his coat.        Love is protected, he said,

the way leaves are packed in snow,    the rubies of fall. God is protecting        the jewel of love for us.

He didn't ask for anything, but I gave him    all the change left in my pocket,        and the man beside me, impulsive, moved,

gave Ezekiel his watch.    It wasn't an expensive watch,        I don't even know if it worked,

but the poet started, then walked away    as if so much good fortune        must be hurried away from,

before anyone realizes it's a mistake.    Carlotta, her stocking cap glazed        like feathers in the rain,

under the radiant towers, the floodlit ramparts,    must have wondered at my impulse to touch her,        which was like touching myself,

the way your own hand feels when you hold it    because you want to feel contained.        She said, You get home safe now, you hear?

In the same way Ezekiel turned back    to the benevolent stranger.        I will write a poem for you tomorrow,

he said. The poem I will write will go like this:    Our ancestors are replenishing        the jewel of love for us.

“Broadway”Under Grand Central's tattered vault

    --maybe half a dozen electric stars still lit--        one saxophone blew, and a sheer black scrimbillowed over some minor constellation    under repair. Then, on Broadway, red wings        in a storefront tableau, lustrous, the live macawspreening, beaks opening and closing    like those animated knives that unfold all night        in jewelers' windows. For sale,glass eyes turned outward toward the rain,    the birds lined up like the endless flowers        and cheap gems, the makeshift tables

of secondhand magazines    and shoes the hawkers eye        while they shelter in the doorways of banks.

So many pockets and paper cups    and hands reeled over the weight        of that glittered pavement, and at 103rd

a woman reached to me across the wet roof    of a stranger's car and said, I'm Carlotta,        I'm hungry. She was only asking for change,

so I don't know why I took her hand.    The rooftops were glowing above us,        enormous, crystalline, a second city

lit from within. That night    a man on the downtown local stood up        and said, My name is Ezekiel,

I am a poet, and my poem this evening is called    fall. He stood up straight        to recite, a child reminded of his posture

by the gravity of his text, his hands    hidden in the pockets of his coat.        Love is protected, he said,

the way leaves are packed in snow,    the rubies of fall. God is protecting        the jewel of love for us.

He didn't ask for anything, but I gave him    all the change left in my pocket,        and the man beside me, impulsive, moved,

gave Ezekiel his watch.    It wasn't an expensive watch,        I don't even know if it worked,

but the poet started, then walked away    as if so much good fortune        must be hurried away from,

before anyone realizes it's a mistake.    Carlotta, her stocking cap glazed        like feathers in the rain,

under the radiant towers, the floodlit ramparts,    must have wondered at my impulse to touch her,        which was like touching myself,

the way your own hand feels when you hold it    because you want to feel contained.        She said, You get home safe now, you hear?

In the same way Ezekiel turned back    to the benevolent stranger.        I will write a poem for you tomorrow,

he said. The poem I will write will go like this:    Our ancestors are replenishing        the jewel of love for us.

The Poem’s Speaker

• A native New Yorker• Gender is ambiguous• Observes poverty that surrounds him/her as

he/she walks the streets of New York• Connects with homeless who live a

different lifestyle.

The Speaker’s Attitude Towards the Homeless

• Initially, is cynical towards the homeless.• Is sympathetic towards Carlotta.• Sees Ezekiel as an intelligent individual with

talent.• At the end, the speaker’s view of the homeless

changes when he hears Ezekiel’s poem and sees Carlotta as a source of comfort instead of just another person living in poverty.

Organization of the Poem

• 20 stanzas• Each stanza has 3 lines• No rhyme scheme• Majority of sentences are lengthy

Organization of the Poem

• The poem breaks down into 3 sections– Stanzas 1-6: The speaker makes general

observations of New York and the homeless. Compares them to somewhat annoying birds explaining that they always have their mouths open. This shows that the author is acting cynical initially.

• The live macaws preening, beaks opening and closing

Organization of the Poem

– Stanzas 7-15: The speaker personally interacts with the homeless and observes their behavior. He encounters Carlotta, whom he impulsively touches. He also encounters Ezekiel, whose poem moved him and the stranger sitting next to him. This causes the author to become more understanding of these strangers he doesn’t know very well.

• He didn’t ask for anything, but I gave him all the change left in my pocket.

Organization of the Poem

– Stanzas 16-20: The speaker’s life is changed when he is touched by the selfless acts of the homeless. He takes comfort in Carlotta’s touch and the words she speaks to him. Ezekiel’s generosity towards the stranger touches the speaker.

• You get home safe now, you hear?

Dominant Imagery

• A night in New York– Gives a sense of loneliness when the speaker

describes the train station and the homeless in the streets.

• Carlotta and Ezekiel– Dispel the stereotype of homeless people as

being unintelligent and unfeeling. The speaker is enlightened when he realizes these people’s lives are of value.

Dominant Imagery

• Ezekiel’s Poem– Compares leaves of fall to love, saying they are packed

in snow. This means that our love is sheltered within us, safe from outside, potentially harmful events. When he says that God is protecting the jewel of love, he means that our faith gives our life hope and keeps us going. Lastly, when he says our ancestors are replenishing the jewel of love for us, he means that we are always thinking of our ancestors, which contributes to our faith.

Diction and Syntax

• Simple Language• Syntax is extremely logical with simple sentences

that are easy to understand.• The speaker is telling a narrative, explaining his

experiences in New York.• Style of the narration is a stream of consciousness.• Makes it seem as though the speaker is telling a

personal narrative rather than an impersonal poem.

Conclusion

I found this poem to be enjoyable because it presents a clear message of faith in mankind. “Broadway” is an unconventional type of poem in that it tells a story rather than presents a flowery type of image that is difficult to comprehend.

Bibliography

1.http://www.pshares.org/authors/authorDetails.cfm?prmAuthorID=408

2.http://www.bedfordstmartins.com/introduction_literature/poetry/doty.htm