5141. BY DINT OF SAVING

BY DINT OF SAVING

By dint of saving I reached salvation although I never

knew why. The streets I lived were in my blood; 

things like fourth floor walkups and open lofts,

17th street fires and barrels where the old men

huddled in rags  -  watching flames split the difference,

watching fires singe their clothes. There never was a 

song in any singer's mouth I wished to hear. The cart-man,

last one left, still had his chestnut horse and he sauntered

down the street when he chose to go. My God, it was

a different world  -  and so long ago. 'I travelled through

a land of men and women too, and heard and saw such

dreadful things as cold earth wandered never knew.'

William Blake to Howard Hawkes to Marianne Moore

herself : 'Durer would have seen a reason for living in 

a town like this...'

-

By dint of a saving grace I'd been saved by Life, and 

staying on I stayed  -  the last remaining template for 

something passing. Now the selfsame streets wherein I

muscled men are quaint professional gaslights and 

high-fashioned ladies and gents. Just goes to show, I'd 

guess, what's missing when everyone thinks they're in.

One form or another, the trace of this life is all of a

whimsical, passing, charcoal sketch. I am saved

by Salvation and all the rest....Durer would have

seen a reason for living in a town like this.