6320. NOW PART OF MY PERMANENT COLLECTION

NOW PART OF MY 

PERMANENT COLLECTION

Now part of my permanent collection, this wild

ride to Hell has kept me pretty busy : I just read

today about some leading atheist, having been

asked what he would say to God, should he find 

out 'when he gets there' that there is a God who

said he'd say 'How dare you!' to God.

-

What he meant, he said, was to point out  -  did

you know  -  that there's an insect that exists for

no other purpose but to get into the liquid of an

infant's eye and destroy the vision? How dare you.

How dare you demand homage amidst all these

myths and miseries we must live with.

-

I guess there's a draw to that point; a zone I

can handle. What's the use of worrying if

worrying's all you get? Anyway, it's part

now, of my permanent collection.

6319. LIKE GREEN GRASS, I COULD WATCH YOU ALL NIGHT

LIKE GREEN GRASS, I COULD 

WATCH YOU ALL NIGHT

The hesitation is just a nervous condition I walk

with: I trip and I slobber, but it's mostly over you.

Anyhow. Everything which should have been 

plugged in was plugged in  -  all the lights on the

soundboard and overhead came on OK. I guess that

means things are running fine. Don't trip on the wires.

-

There, look  -  into the spotlight; you look as charming

as little Hell. Your viola da gamba is bigger than my face,

and  -  yes, yes  -  we shine good together. I could do

this forever and ever. Again. Forever and ever.

6318. CONTALINA

CONTALINA

I haven't had a break like this since 1962.

Upstairs in the dead guy's lounge, my father

was sitting. Looking mean and all heated up

about something. He'd just punched the wall.

Apparently. Leaving a good-sized hole.

-

Translating any emotion is difficult, mainly

because no one sees through another's eyes.

And even if I did, I'd never have my fathers

intent. Anyway, he's gone a long time now,

and I still never understand a thing about

what went one between him and me.

-

It's a sorrowful, long, slow and sad thing.

A powerful, long, slow, and sad, thing.

6317. I AM A RESTLESS ROVER

I AM A RESTLESS ROVER

A man of small means, ever on the move, moves

very little, nowhere. It's the semblance of the

move and nothing more. No, then, put that

away  -  I am a restless rover and ever on

the move. You will be following only

my dots on a very small screen.

-

Every day has its dream, every dream has 

its day. Does that make any sense? I am the 

willow tree bending, too loose to ever break.

6316. ANIMAL CEMETERY

ANIMAL CEMETERY

Well, my heart is broken, I swear, forevermore.

I no longer care who kills or who dies  -  all those

stupid Russians and Ukrainians and Crimeans and

the rest. They can die forever before I would care.

This, this is the place I will remain and stay. Woe.

Woe is me, and my empty, staggering, leftover life.

6315. JUST BRING IT TO NORMAL AGAIN

JUST BRING IT 

TO NORMAL AGAIN

Set the name and turn the dial; alter the gauge

to bring all this back. Just like some creep in

a time machine running past fashions, the ages

speed by. I seem hopeless and lost, but I'm not.

-

The world has leaves and pages, just as books

and trees have their own. The very next time

I'm here, I'll show you; but for now I've got

to keep moving on. Allentown, and Haverstraw.

-

All these movie people, they hang out and live,

somehow in Hastings on Hudson, but I don't

know why  -  except for the faintly British

sounding name, there's not a thing to 

attract anyone like that there. 

6314. SPUKHAFTE FERNWIRKUNG

SPUKHAFTE 

FERNWIRKUNG

(spooky action at a distance)

'Put the pen down, please. It's running

out of shadow. It's changing the light

I see. It's running down this room.'

-

I bring spectacular results back home

from distant seas  -  carmine and umber,

tones of a royalty waiting. Look at these,

ermines and rubies, all sorts of things.

-

The sherry is corked? No wonder; let's

take some from these cups and not a

person will know. Thinking it's tea,

perhaps. We'll have a grand, old time.

-

'He was telling me of things : weird things.

Silent phone calls  -  of how people buried

with their phones in their coffins continue

to make silent phone calls...'

6313. LAND OF MOMENTS

LAND OF MOMENTS

Let me take your hand, this once, okay,

and carry you through  -  there is another

world of magic past this illusion we pay

for. The world is lit by hope. I hope 

you can understand.

-

Third Street has me sitting in a black box 

and handcuffs. It's been said I cannot move

until the new Chairman arrives  -  he's been

called for, but that was already four days ago.

There's a chess club on the far corner, and all

I can do now is watch the geeky guys come

and go. Do no women play this odd game?

-

I want to be Knight, a Rook, a King, in fact.

Anything that would allow me here to change 

my shirt. I pray to any foreign God I find  -

booklets, pamphlets, parchment notes abound.

Any foreign God I find.

6312. WE HAVE 'BRINED'

WE HAVE 'BRINED'

Something like a salt-dome that collapses

upon us, this world wears heavy upon our

shoulders  -  after we take from it what we

can and it takes, as well, from us. Nothing

steady; just more a wavering light, like that

from a candle  -  illuminating a world we call

and we say. Then, the entire world disappears

as we brine open the sinkhole and it swallows

us up. Oh too bad is the loss; and the lost.  We

have 'brined' ourselves to death, though

production is still all the rage.

6311. TOURNEY

TOURNEY

This land is evanescent  -  as changeable

as a lark. The stallions cheer the buildings,

running from them as they fall. There is

no hesitation here, anywhere.

-

Call on I. M. Pei. Call on Frank Gehry.

Call on all the others.

They can all make things go.

6310. WE HAVE THE DISTANCE

WE HAVE THE DISTANCE

We could have moved to England a long time 

ago : Wordsworth, Swinging London, Tintern 

Abbey, Wales and the rest. Mary Quant and 

Carnaby Street. My Anglia would have driven 

us nicely over the heath. And then those

fearsome memories of the war stepped in.

-

'Which war?' I heard you say. It's the kind

of talk that passes for idle here. Now far

above us, in the black, dark night, those

stars are twinkling as they burn. Do they

burn? Are we burning out with them?

-

How distant are these distant skies?

6309. NOTHING WORSE THAN CRIME IN A MALL

NOTHING LESS THAN 

CRIME IN A MALL

'You always hurt the ones you love, but I never 

get the one I want. Good God, I'm walking 

carefully with this carbine. I want to join 

the Israeli Defense Forces too.

-

Look at all these windows, and this stupid

Food Court filled with people. I didn't want

this to get complicated. Wonder if I need a

corn dog? Should I just take down the

Apple Store and be done with it?

-

It's like 'suicide by police', they call it.

I know they'll shoot me dead  -  all I've

really got to do is burnish this unit, show

it around, shoot a little bit, and just step

forward when the police arrive. I know

they'll shoot me down.'

6308. NOBODY TALKS TO COWGIRLS ANYMORE

NOBODY TALKS TO

 COWGIRLS ANYMORE

Face it. Life is just too harsh. 

Is that a moment's pleasure 

you say you're offering to 

me? Come, let us reason

together.

6307. THIS NEW LIGHT CUTS ME HARSHLY

THIS NEW LIGHT 

CUTS ME HARSHLY

Every time the streetscape changes, someone else

is due  -  to say it's no longer any good, to declaim

on all the losses. Probably right, and sound by saying.

Man should stand up for what he believes.

-

I have no qualms with that, buddy. You make it

seem nostalgic, sitting here. The round-castle font

of my dreams makes reading them all so difficult

for me. I better grab another cup of coffee.

6306. I AM PRETTY MUCH I ADMIT

I AM PRETTY MUCH I ADMIT

Crazy. But it's all for my work. I inhabit

the same chair wherein William Blake once ate:

deeply-rich, hard to sit in, difficult to leave once

you're in. I will say this  -  it's not a hum-drum land

and every morning's a late new adventure. 

I wake up rich and screaming each day.

6305. A ROOMFUL OF MARKSMEN

A ROOMFUL OF MARKSMEN

Here we are once more : the deadening

hammer-blow of this late afternoon hits

harshly on the tabletop. I am reading a

Reverend Billy screed  -  some nutty

diatribe about the consensus of the

malformed and the 'greed of the

tweedy.' I think that means Wall

Street's in for new trouble.

-

If we keep following things this far, we

have to know this place is in trouble as well. 

People following the lion's-lead of another 

dumb-ass President in chains, and whistling 

back as his guys walk by. Even Condolezza Rice, 

I notice today in the New York Times, 

is bowing, and ten years out of date.

-

You want chains and slavery then? This is

the place that can give it to you. Most people

these days work for Government pay anyway.

It's a roomful of marksmen all aiming at my head.

-

I was once a boy in a blank and free land. That

went away the next morning, and I was forced 

into an idiot school led by idiotic, mannered adults :

the first raft of marksmen, before they all sank. 

-

'Yes, yes, father, I'm in the middle of it. I want to

go on, but my mind is twisted by the death and

the foul, all the things I see. Lucre and breasts,

lies and the obscene, nineteen tall people, taking

it mean. A roomful of marksmen again.'

6304. IN A MOMENT

IN A MOMENT

They are counting some string of

numbers backwards  -  like a

reverse quest of pi, they close

in on themselves, to a new

and reverse conclusion.

6303. RUNNING FOR THIS LIFE

RUNNING FOR THIS LIFE

Nietzsche's perfection is

unrepressed life : but wanting

eternity by wanting to die. 

Such 'eternity' envisages

mankind's liberation from

its neurotic obsession with

the present  -  the 'now'.

Now that I can understand.

-

The fish are at the window; 

my art is on the stand. As an 

easel taking in the scene it holds, 

I lend this bare support to 

the reality I perceive.

6302. LANDING ON THE MOON

LANDING ON THE MOON

This lander lands while that capsule

still spins on high. White dust flies,

light caught in a funny way on each

tiny speck  -  like a marvelous crystalization, 

blown all about. I'm ready to step this foot :

I go. Out. To not knowing where from

why'd I get here? Can I stand or will

this hold me? Should I get sucked

down, 'Goodye, Houston, Goodbye.'

-

One thing I notice, in this far and distant

sky - it's too late to turn back now.

6301. NATION AGAINST NATION, STATE AGAINST STATE

NATION AGAINST NATION, 

STATE AGAINST STATE

Here's the angst, Robert. It comes

and it goes. But this devil has a 

notion of staying around.

-

Fires on the main mound, 

smoke along the ridge. We 

proclaim each other sacred, 

jumping blindly off the bridge.

6300. I CAN SEE BY NOW

I CAN SEE BY NOW

The world is a misnomer, an illusion, a parade

that does not exist. If I live this far backwards 

within a place of mind, how long then do I

wish to live.? Outside of time, I stand in rubble:

17th Street brings me back, Gerardo's loft, the

old art stairs, the girl with the green eyes, 

the kid who wouldn't leave.

-

That kid was me : paintbrush bound and roped

in colors. The rooftop sensationa at the top of

8th Street, looking downtown as if some

Parisian arrondissement had my name. Place

by place, everything beckoned the kid who

wouldn't leave. That kid I was, stayed.

-

Now  -  at the juncture of Forever and Now,

I twirl a bit just to see back  -  quickly. I

note that my railings have all lost their

mountings, the screws have been torn from

the walls, and the bounding stairs, the

bounding stairs, down them I'm falling.

6299. PARSIMONY

PARSIMONY

('Take it back, scoundrel, don't bleed

me dry by your own stingy ways.

This is one time where I'll be giving

first. I hear the rabble rousing

itself already. Everything runs.

-

I'm coming through this life, and

I'll decide about it, not you. Too

much eyeshade distorts the eyes,

and you only see what you

see anyway.)'

-

Now now, little one, please : take

this stammering yap away from me;

bring me some water, and a newspaper

too  -  anything written with words.

6298. TRAIN VERSION

TRAIN VERSION

Clackety-clack, the train

wrestles the trestle. I, by

contrast, am bridging

nothing at all.

6297. SO NOW THIS IS REAL

SO NOW THIS IS REAL

Let it go, be this way, finding the maze :

I understand the me that no one cares about.

Playing chess with a God. Being check-mated

by embarrassed angels; a sentinel Michael with

his flaming sword. I'll sit until the fire burns down.

-

Chips at the casino, and those nearly naked girls in

the clubs, who wish to dance on stages of their lives,

I just let them go on. Pile up high, the everything.

Whisper for me to the very dangerous man  -

the bouncer who dreams of daffodils  -  

I too have met his type while leaving.

-

The guestbook has no names.

The big floor is empty.

6296. HOLDING THIS PATTERN

HOLDING THIS PATTERN

So much of this is no longer a public

conversation : the secret hideaways 

and the patter of phones. My coloring

book is filled with lines, and over each

of them splashes of color run outside

those lines. It would seem a mess,

if a novice were to see.

6295. BROKEN KNUCKLES

BROKEN KNUCKLES

Horses past the fence, and an old, open

barn doorway. Wind passes through.

I am nothing, if not cold once more.

6294. WHAT CAME FIRST?

WHAT CAME FIRST?

What came first, the circle or the square? If I

have to ask, I should first beset the listener a 

with good observation : consider the mountaintop

view we are seeing from Bear Mountain Bridge  -  

do you not notice nature's organic hand and

muscular pull and tug? In Nature, nothing

squares itself and there really are no right

angles. That's a man-made thing, the

T-Square cut and jag. Nature just

simply doesn't do that.

-

Rounded things absorb the world, instead

of taking it over, as the angle'd square of

Mankind does, and trying to the run off, 

to abscond with all that Reality brings.

-

It's a sorry state, but  -  my pal, my

listener, my beautiful lady friend, let's

look at you (ahem)...please. Show me

the right angle on that beautiful

body of yours, should you be

able to find it.

6293. ASPECTS OF YOUR VISUAL EFFECT

ASPECTS OF YOUR 

VISUAL EFFECT

Now that the momentum has ceased, we can look

more clearly at the shadows thrown  -  everything

once amiss is now settled. Like a scratched line, heavy,

on a canvas of doubt, I can read the intention and

see the movement of the scurrying hand  -  everything

that once was meant. Your visual effects leave the

traces of you in every corner and nook. I want to 

go on reading, yet my sight is growing dim.

-

Voracious as I once in such reading may have been

now I am tired and slow to process  - yet  I will

not turn away, mon artiste, my friend  - I shall

keep on staring, to examine your mind and to

recognize your intent. Let time stop first,

and well before my own self does.

6292. BOAT

BOAT

Quietly the boat rocks 

in the water. And I am 

drowning in paper.

6291. FORESTED MISNOMER

FORESTED MISNOMER

Take the cake walk, bring it back -  all

the shiny-stage stuff goes wanting. Singers

are singing, and some fat black, with swagger,

plays a trombone. All the people are loving

that Louie's sound.

-

I've got cards spread out  -  some old-fashioned

hand that no one can read. The 12th street locals

just stare  -  some little girl with ribbons, and

two old men  -  very tall and very thin. Let's

all keeping going, just this side of order.

-

One day after Wednesday, the calendar says,

the anarchy will break out : fresh-faced, like

piglets pink and newly running, children with

staves, warriors in tri-cornered hats. I want to

be there, when these saints go marching out.

My forested misnomer shall cover the land.

6290. WHEN CHARLES V'S TROOPS TOOK ROME

WHEN CHARLES V'S 

TROOPS TOOK ROME

(1572)
They called it a 'sack'  -  these guys just wanted

their pay. Jacknapping all the Swiss guardsmen 

on the Basilica stairs, blood ran, blood, blood,

a blood red as vestment.  Vatican goons 

without a second name. 

6289. ALL THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS EVERYWHERE

ALL THE GREAT AND 

GLORIOUS EVERYWHERE

Yes, yes, I want to codify everything that I see :

the worm knows best its wormhole, and, as was

put by someone somewhere  -  the world has 

a crack, where the light is let in.

-

Even this harbor is sinking into the ground : I have

the stories and I've heard all the tales. The two men

are hunched over cards and beer  -  their cigarettes

dangle from pathological lips. A dim glow, a barren

light. Let me sit, oh, let me sit as well.

-

When things get sad, the world devolved into

its own earthen brown  - a thin tan, better than

bad coffee, but thin and weak nonetheless  -  we

must arise from our graves and aspire? To

where our sunflower wishes to go?

-

The closet and the catalogue and the carton

and the casket  -  all things work together

here, and this forceful moment pushes its

life along. I am witness, left to tell, of

all the great and glorious everywhere.

6288. ROUSING THEM ANGELS

ROUSING THEM ANGELS

I'ts not too hard  -  bringing them forth from

dreams and prayers. The trouble is, then what

do you do? Listen only, or talk back too? You

know those guys who walk the street  -  shouting

and snapping and babbling to themselves. They're

better left alone  -  with, as Lincoln would have

put it, the 'better angels of their nature...'

And I just wish them well.

6287. OH GREAT GREY

OH GREAT GREY

As if this sky was talking to me, I looked up

at it hard  -  to see the great grey presence above.

Big dog on a short leash  -  my feelings sometimes

run that way : were I free and unleashed to be,

oh my, oh great grey me!

6286. FIVE ARMIES

FIVE ARMIES

Five armies have my heart and mind : Love

and Goodness, and Charity and Care, and

Concentration. All settled each, in their

distinctive chairs, they sit. It might not

sound like much but, for me, between 

them all sits one good life.

-

I've handled the shadows of doubt and

darkness, and left them in my wake.

Or at least, trying so hard so as

not to take any bad intentions

from this world I'm in.

6285. A HANGING ON CHESTNUT STREET

A HANGING ON 

CHESTNUT STREET
(philadelphia)

'Whyo Whyo GOODBYE HELLO :

I believe in Michelangelo, Velasquez,

Rembrandt, Blake and Picasso too and

I'm holding loose for something  -  some

kind of noose  -  for jumping, and I look 

at the branches I pass beneath and visualize

on each a rope and a neck and a man with a

knot, a rim-tied fragment of death annealing

and about to happen : and THERE! WHAM!

they kick the chair out from under him and

he's dangling quick and feet are shimmying 

all over and he's seeming to hold his breath

and one arm reaches up one great hand pulls

and grabs on the rope, a massive tug to relieve

the neck pressure and the other hand goes into

a pocket (this is all instant and swift in one long 

could-be-the-last breath) A MAN DEFEATING 

HIS OWN HANGING! and he flashes out quickly

a knife and flips open the big blade sharpened to

a hone-like-glass and I watch startled on Chestnut 

Street as that massive hand and arm deftly cut

through the rope (think as a coil, thick as it is)

and he fleetingly cuts himself down!! landing with

a thud on the ground as he quickly loosens the

rope knot and sits there stunned WHILE ALL THE

OTHERS HAVE FLED and I watch all this like as

a horrid dream and can never think of trees the same

again : 'for children at the gate who will not go away

and cannot pray, for those who chose and oppose, 

OH MY PEOPLE WHAT HAVE I DONE!!'

6284. WANDERING THIS PLACE AGAIN

WANDERING THIS 

PLACE AGAIN

Hill and dale, rivulet and stream. There's

those horrid sticker bushes again. Catch

my shirt one more time I'll scream.

-

By the high-side, all the dirt's fallen in and

now I can see that guy' shed. It was once all

hidden. Funny how time changes things.

-

Let me sit my silly ass down. I love these

big rocks when they're round. I can just

sit here, and watch the water go.

6283. PUTTIN' MY THINGS AWAY

PUTTIN' MY 

THINGS AWAY

Archangels abound, but I'm

running aground. My Father

Pete disguise isn't working

at all, and all people seem

to want is Extreme Unction 

or Last Rites. What a racket!

-

There's a swelling behind my ear  -

it's enhanced my hearing, and now

I can hear butterflies sing, and 

woodpeckers talk, every sort

of thing, like that and more.

-

Just some wonderful derivations :

I'm no longer impatient for anything

at all, sit back and wait a lot, and  -

really, really really  - I just can't

wait for this globe to heat up

again. It's all so filled

with new promise.

6282. SO GIVE THEM THE WHOLE TOWN

SO GIVE THEM 

THE WHOLE TOWN

(a letter back to Robbie)

Let them have the takings, and the leavings too;

we'll bring back the weeds and daffodils and give

them some new sort of value. The rest can go

to their own tinny-Heaven, riding a cracker-barrell 

ice-box for all I care. I've been away so long 

it looks like nothing to me.

-

Jacob the Smithy is dead, and he's left his two

daughters behind. If there's an opportunity,

let me know what opens up. That sounds

like two obscene jokes to me, but I figure

you'll understand what I mean. 

-

The rail cars should enter town by noon,

and I'l most certainly exit from the

third rear car. Please be there

to meet me.

6281. MY LAST AND FINAL PROMISE

MY LAST AND 

FINAL PROMISE

To Hell with Blaise Cendrars; I am

living my Belgian life in mufti. A few

more Nazi freaks will be here any day.

Put the machine guns oin all the haystacks

and watch out for men in brown uniforms.

There is a fog now, just lifting over Berlin;

there is another fog coming down over

Manhattan. the 23rd Street roosters

are touting their goods : illicit

armaments, poisoned rations,

and  -  of course  -  bullets

where only earrings 

should be.

6280. NEW DRUGS

NEW DRUGS

I tried learning to

pray : and then I 

was dead, 

motherfucker.

6279. MY BRIEF SOLILOQUY

MY BRIEF SOLILOQUY

Just a few, just a few, I'm standing here,

one of two. In my pockets, I hustle another 

stain, only to realize I'm sickened by the

death of another member. The cavalier

rifleman glances over, and slowly, so

slowly, the applause starts spreading.

-

I look away, into the shade the stage curtain

throws, and try finding a set of eyes that do

not move. Only there, only there would I

find my soulmate; the one who listens and

knows. Now, my well-used songbooks

are all caked with blood. The mad

mob is moving again.

6279. HAMSTRUNG

HAMSTRUNG

In Nature. In Nature nothing

lasts forever : well, not quite

anyway. I guess even the redwoods 

fall after awhile, just too tired

to keep on standing.

6278. DIGRESSION

DIGRESSION

Twenty ages past, the legerdemain

of illustrious farce first too the stage -

Charlemagne Pontificus Flautus Honorus

Bellissimus Montague Capulet and

Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern too.

Got it back? Understand that Jack?

-

Otherwise what solace is grieving?

A lace curtain artifice  -  and you won't

be the first person sickened by human 

behavior, and the artifice is all our own.

The world  -  the entire world  -  keeps

on forgetting its digression.

6277. ZOE

ZOE

And Zoe, there's no putting this

down  -  all the factuals will

need to speak for themselves  -

only talismans need apply. 

My startled lineman are all.

-

I am writing a portrait, here,

against this wall, where the

raindrops sit and the lines of

every pencil-point arrive.

They enter one by one, and sit.

-

And Zoe, there's no putting this

any better : I may sit alone, but

I'm sitting with you. My teapot

steams. My coffee cup is drained.

Every word that was ever spoken,

every written instance of intentions

meant (and there have been quite

a few), they have all come

here now, to roost.

6276. LIKE (five guys from forever)

LIKE

(five guys from forever)

Like no run in this running

ever before, and this road goes

forth, turning mountains. Five guys

from forever are riding their own

invisible rails. Atchison, Topeka

and Santa Fe indeed.

-

Like they pull into Sacramento dented,

the fat Hudson Hornet they've driven

like some Cadillac Packard steambull

thrives while it huffs and puffs its only

breakdown cauldron and every sleeve

is ended. Tattered. Torn.

-

Zone this still-life out of bounds

and jagged and now enraged. 

Like one tumescent blunder, just

waiting for the cyclone cyst to

burst, and the little girl to love

is waiting on the bed.

6275. A BRUTALITY THAT IS NOT ART

A BRUTALITY 

THAT IS NOT ART

Here : they are long dead now. They

died young  -  drowned in  the mud of

Ypres or disemboweled in Verdun.

What is the dreadful noise they made?

Brutality like this is not art.

-

Only Woodrow Wilson and Colonel House

know any of that, and they're not talking.

No, no, didn't anyone tell you, he's had a

stroke and cannot any longer talk. 

They're not talking at all

6274. ANKLE DEEP IN KNEES

ANKLE DEEP IN KNEES

Or, if you prefer, I'd be knee deep in ankles.

Either way, the flip-flop is what counts.

I have sunshades for my blindness and

all my eyeglasses are rainbow tinted.

I butter my bread on both sides for

the goodness it brings back to me.

The startled starling 

stares to the sky.

6273. DWARFMAN'S REPEATING DREAM

DWARFMAN'S 

REPEATING  DREAM

So that then becomes the problem which wasn't

the problem to begin with, but that's how things

develop, don't they always? Oh, man. And remember,

it's 12:20 at night and in the bleak, hot darkness two

motorcycles pull up bleating outside the house.

Two guys are outside yelling 'come on outside 

and see my new motorcycle!' And there they were,

both sitting, waiting  -  and the loud snap of straight

pipes and motor-engine-idle covers the street staccato,

like gunshot, and the one big guy, the huge, fat joyous

one, stays seated on his motorcycle while the other big,

tall and blond guy gets off standing next to his new

motorcycle and someone else is looking at it just as

I too am, looking, witnessing the entire scene, thinking

back to anything before anything, and it all therefore

seems senseless and all without weight but loaded anyway,

and I try to move away but realize maybe I'm dreaming

and I hear the two of them laughing just as loudly over

any of the other noises and I can go nowhere because

(just like in a dream) I am essentially nowhere and I start

in the same way to think of women's names arrayed and

listed and all in a row : Lydia, Linda, Sarah, Jill, Mary, 

Ellen, Lisa, Dawn, Donna, Kathy, Margaret, Sue  -  and 

I settle onto the fact that it  -  like the bible  -  is a probably

endless list and so it can go on and it does and I've so many

things to do but am shackled by something which is 

keeping me here but that something is unidentified

 by day and night by any form of light.