Saturday, February 28, 2015

6401. YOU'RE A'GONNA SEE

YOU'RE A'GONNA SEE
And you'll see that everything is nothing and so is
nothing itself. That presidents and statesmen lie to
death, that faces are purloined portraits from a long
gallery of self-inflicted wounds; that even the walls
have ears. Yes. That everything is a tragic premonition.
The sun does not set  -  it's merely an illusion caused
by the spinning of the Earth : which is also illusion, alas.

Friday, February 27, 2015

6400. THAT GREAT CONFLAGRATION

THAT GREAT CONFLAGRATION
Like when Chicago burned : I was out, buying a
pillow for Mrs. O'Leary's cow, came back late,
and the cow had already toppled the candle into 
the hay as the barn quickly went up in flames.
That day was one to remember. Mrs. O'Leary
was apprehended trying to flee  -  she knew
immediately what was up, with the fire and
how  -  even if they blamed the cow  -  she
too would be forever linked. Like now.
-
Barns are terrible places anyway  -  combustible
hay piles, steaming silage, warm corners, lamps
and lights, ornery cows, stuff that ignites itself
by some weird agricultural form of a truly
spontaneous combustion. When you're not 
even looking, or thinking about it, the heat
and the temperature just takes off and there
goes all last Summer's work. What a fiery
mess. This was different  -  I guess  -  what
with the cow kicking over the lantern, but
follow my point anyway if you will.
-
That ended the landscape of that place forever,
all that wooden construction gone and forgotten.
It gave everyone a new chance, and, in fact,
gave Louis Sullivan his big break to construct a
skyscraper  -  The Auditorium Building or something,
concrete and steel-frame construction, elevators.
An entire new world a'borning. See how new,
good things start from bad troubles? So don't
look so down, and don't be forlorn. Everything
dies, something new gets born.

6399. HAROLD, HAROLD, YOUR CAR IS HERE

HAROLD, HAROLD,
 YOUR CAR IS HERE
The neighbors said he was a millionaire, or they
vouched for him as if he were. Even if it was all
made up, the power of the showing is in the
power of the shoe : some little guy swigging 
rum, talking about all this money in the bank
and those three Carreras he just bought. Cars,
I guess? Paintings? Something I should know,
I assume  -  or maybe not, maybe part of the
mystique is in just throwing out names like
that and letting people think  what they may.
No one wants to admit ignorance. 'Just bought
a Carmalini? Oh my God I love them. It must
have cost a pretty penny?' And then, no real
answer, just that stupid, solid grin. It's over
in a minute, concluded, and he wins.

6398. BUYING OUT RUTH SORKIN

BUYING OUT RUTH SORKIN
It only took a basket at Balducci's, or a
sit-down at some awkward cafe : two black
coffees, and out came the little bottle of booze.
I guess no one cared, and nothing mattered. How
does one pick up a drunk? Forty years ago, yes,
right over there, was the cutest little French pastry
shop  -  all sorts of bizarre, fanciful concoctions
put out each day, for purchase and to take home.
Crazy French pastries. I never had any money, so
it didn't matter to me; but now I look back and
realize I should just have known. This was all gay 
stuff; a few blocks from The Stonewall Inn, in
fact  -  I should have realized then who bought
these playful little things  -  all those quaint
male ingenues I was just getting to know:
dancers and chorus-line guys and theater
people behind the scenes. They swarmed
and made all their money, and spent it
here as well. Torte and eclair, 
cream-ball, and little pie.

6397. WITH THE SANHEDRIN

WITH THE SANHEDRIN
One way to seclude yourself is just to
declare a seclusion; speak nothing and offer
nothing back. You must see, I'm disgusted.
No one gives me anything, I'm offered no
riches, not even a passing affirmative pat.
As if I don't exist. Well then, go ahead, see
if I care, crucify me at three o'clock, and
you can all go to Hell. Here hold my hat,
give me that crown of thorns instead. Let
the crowd see what they make of that.

6396. THE NEW DAY DAWNS

THE NEW DAY DAWNS
And comes but once the bested arrival, the
summation of effort, a manifest place in a
sequestered square. We walk in circles to get
somewhere; without speaking, there's not so 
much of a gulf between. Celebratory nods, in
a dog-run scene. How nice they can play together.
-
Then comes the frolicsome other : the clown in the
cherry orchard, the goofball himself, with his cheery
offer : 'sit back, relax, take it twice, and then again,
leave me a dollar or leave me a ten. Try this weed,
it's almost legal. I can get you anything you want.'
-
Still, no matter, this is Washington Square and you 
can't do that here. Sit on that stump, okay, until it
pierces your ass, but leave me alone. If this had been
a cartoon, my thought bubble would have shown.

6395. A NEW HERALDRY

A NEW HERALDRY
Whatever street that was which I was
walking then by now is long forgotten.
There were some lights on over counters
and windows, a small bookstore with a
broken door, and a marker on the building's
side about the Underground Railroad. Two
girls had just walked by, singing together a
tune. On the other curb, a sullen man looked
downtown. I was alone and befuddled, but
what else is new, or was new then?
-
Out of the sky came a something unsourced :
in Manhattan like this you don't get to see
much celestial. Or if you do, it's all of a visionary
plight : two angels high up on a building's cornice,
a goat-god's face peering down, or some wizardry
thing that no one believes you about anyway.
-
Always like that, 'without a jacket in Wyoming' as 
a joker would say  -  some stand-up comedian belting
them out; one-liners about abortion and nuns or silly 
things of lovers and love. You know what I mean. The
new heraldry which controls all the flight and every bit
of fun. A dour sensation, known to everyone. Something 
you wanted to do, but which was just never done.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

6394. ARROWROOT

ARROWROOT
Lethargy and all the contagion of passing times
will keep the legions satisfied enough : to get
to their pajama parties and bingo clubs. Tough
and ready and eager, all these mothers have 
sons and the sons will have daughters too.
-
It was the rain-barrel I heard ticking, and the
raccoon went in through the open flap. Just
like that, in a flash, my eyes were taken and
captivated. Wondrous, this crazy world.

6393. TOM RAPP

TOM RAPP
Why am I here, listening to Tom Rapp
in endless selection? Do I detect a lisp
I never detected before? Pearls Before 
Swine again. Try another time again.

6392. MINESHAFT

MINESHAFT
I spent days inside of you, as in a mineshaft
made of love : no Earth crumbled on my head,
it was all of a passion instead. Robins came and 
robins went, seasonal as they are  -  that much
time elapsed each time. I guess. I never knew.
I spent days inside of you, holding hands with
your mind and kissing your inner soul. The
last light I saw, upon pulling out, was of
such a brilliance never witnessed before.

6391. A MAP OF THE WORLD

A MAP OF THE WORLD
A map of the world on the back of my
hand  -  I'd had etched it there in prison ink  - 
told me really nothing at all  -  off-center, with
marks of direction. So seldom referred to,
I'd forgotten I had it. I well remember getting
it  -  it was to be either that or a fair representation
of the Virgin of Guadalupe. But the artist told me,
that day, he couldn't find one. I took it as a sign,
and accepted the map instead. That was long ago, 
when I was doing time for wasting
time. All things being equal, 
I liked it well enough.

6390. A BAND OF ANGELS

A BAND OF ANGELS
Once I was on the river it was just us, me and
Huck and Jim  -  a half-stupid slave guy and a 
kid, but they each knew more than me a thimble
full. Huck kept saying he 'clumbed' when I figured
he should have said he 'climbed'. But that wasn't
so much important as to know the currents and 
see the river itself as alive  - and these two knew
all that. 'Here comes a regular ripper'  -  Huck 
says that after the riverboat passed us on the 
raft and the big wave that it had pushed 
came right at us. 'A regular ripper.'
 I liked that. 

6389. GATFORD

GATFORD
Billy Bean and Dennis Hopper and
Samurai Sam and me. We all went to
Trenton together : having churlish girls 
and drinking fruited drinks. The State
House was painted dark, and a few old
drunks were standing around. It was
a cold, November Tuesday. 'Who
listens to Hendrix anymore?' someone
asked. I said back, 'The Who still listens
to Hendrix? What's that mean?'

6388. THE PUNCH MEN

THE PUNCH MEN
Ecclesiastical moorings have set us a'float; the
jihadis are honing their knives. Across the wearying
globe the ends now source the means. All is Allah.
-
I think nothing of the dead, nor the living. Their
photographs are deadening to me, and that  -  for me  -
is dead enough. The man says, 'These are not idiots.'
-
Their posting mentions, again, 'All is Allah'. Someone 
else mutters, 'But Yahweh was King of the Kings',
and the a third exclaims  -  'Jesus has saved us all.'
-
I'm afraid I do not know where any of this ends.
We will continue to manifest our lives by the
only lives we manifest. Look askance, brother.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

6387. SAYING GOODBYE TO EVERYTHING

SAYING GOODBYE 
TO EVERYTHING
Once this calendar leaf changes, I don't want to
know  -  you can stuff it where the sun don't go.
(If March comes in like a lion, I'll surely be cryin.')

6386. ACCEPTING SCRIPTURE

ACCEPTING SCRIPTURE
There never was a great divide : 
either way and either side, the 
story of Genesis is a lie, Eden 
was only a concept. Walking 
on water was meant to be a 
once-in-a-lifetime experience, 
not something you do everyday.

6385. BROKEN EYES

BROKEN EYES
I broke these eyes in the interterrestrial marketplace
where they sold slaloms for comfort and springs for
a lift. Staring too hard at the tiny price tags, swinging
past the stars at a thousand miles per hour  -  something
anyway past all reason. There was no one there in one 
piece; time travel had broken all things apart : time
itself was being sold by a geek, and as an antique.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

6384. FIVE THOUSAND THINGS

FIVE THOUSAND THINGS
And we remember them all like the mink in your old
aunt's coat, or the sugar in the old sugar bowl; your
penny whistle when your were ten, those shoes your
mother made you wear, and that hat. The flowers your
grandmother carried on the train ride through New York, 
the 'waiting for wilting tour', you called it later. She'd
been pick-pocketed, and had nothing left, so she just kept
riding the subway all up and down, to think what to do.
carrying those tearful flowers. She finally got out again,
at some return stop to forty-second street, and called
a policeman over. He gave her a dollar for a phone call
and coffee. An hour or two later, her ride finally arrived.
That was your father. The old Plymouth he drove, the
'53, with the clipper ship on the hood as an ornament,
the little metal boat you never forgot. Like the Indian
head on the old Pontiacs too. The way the fountain water
was never high enough, no pressure; you wound up  
sucking the metal, and only God knew what else.
The way Life is made of memories; the pet bird
in its cage, the way the canary sings.

6383. ROLL-TOP DESK

ROLL-TOP DESK
(how do I know this is round?)
In the hinterlands, the cold wind howls, and
it rolls down mountains like a train with a
real mission, not just a timetable to keep.
The old farmhands sitting on the fence posts,
they have to watch for freezing cattle while 
they themselves sit there freezing. This
world is only a definition  -  maybe Wyoming,
like Cheney, like Alan K. Simpson.
-
It's cold where the books are kept, and this
desk-top gets rolled - open -  just to free the cold
books. I read the words with care : a twelve-year
old kid stumbling over words. Like Herndon's
Lincoln, I am Lincoln's Herndon. One is the
watcher while the other records what he sees.
-
You may want less difficult stuff, things you can 
understand  -  more easily. Well, then, go get it.

6382. SPREAD BY THE PLOW, SPREAD BY THE SWORD

SPREAD BY THE PLOW, 
SPREAD BY THE SWORD
(Medcaut)
Either way you want to call it, establishing the pattern
is the way to go  -  means of distribution, methods of
understanding. How have we gotten this far? Some
say language was spread in these manners : one or 
the other together. Speak to me with thine eyes.
-
Bluebell, Scotland, Lindisfarne, Wales.

6381. MEASURING

MEASURING
The hand which wears the bloodied glove can
no longer grasp its reach : there's an owl in the
barn where slaughtered animals are stretched.
Morrisey said 'Meat is Murder', and I agreed,
even way back then  -  not needing the beat
of a tympany to make me sure. Every spirit
holds its spirit and its real-life being together.
Life passes along, as we are waiting.
-
Let's examine again this killing floor  -  
a chain-driven process that keeps itself 
steady, where coin-driven men cut and chop
what they've stunned. Oh no, I can't watch.
Oh no, I can't watch.

6380. MR. MICHAEL

MR. MICHAEL
At the last of the last half of the last half
of the last century, it can be said, things
were a bit different : not total, though different.
The Twin Towers, as I recall, still stood, and the
world held a quieter tone. Bill Clinton had wielded
his cigar : the magic hand of the magic hand inside
the magic tunnel. Not total, but near enough.
-
Here we jump  -  we switch stories while the new
world burns and men in suits illogically keep talking,
to deem the elixir not sweet enough, to shut down
the lights in the cities and towns.
-
So, friends and enemies alike, let's just sit back and watch.
Even the Titanic was cheered as first it left the shore.

Monday, February 23, 2015

6379. DAIRY QUEEN ON MT. KILIMANJARO

DAIRY QUEEN ON 
MT. KILIMANJARO
For all you numbskulls here who never believe;
I was there. It's a nice red hut above the tree line,
far, and two people man the booth  -  ice cream and
fries, your pick. You like hot, or you want more cold?
Everything is 55 yatos, their money, like about a
dollar fifty in ours. I guess they change Euros too.
There's also a Wifi shed, for a bunch more money.
It was good, and it worked well and fast. I got the
stock market close, and even the President's news
conference live. Then we sat down to their version of
bed and breakfast : an ice pack, and pack-mule stew.

6378. MIND YOU?

MIND YOU?
Mind you if I take a moment? Let me seek the
human library within : I have remnants of all
words inside me. The entry key is deep silence.
Remember all those preening talking heads we
used to see, in old Mankind's previous version?
They are thankfully all gone and finished now.

6377. AIR IS EVERYWHERE

AIR IS EVERYWHERE
Why does the castle sit hard on the land? Where
is the end of the moat? Does the man in the tower,
with the lance and the staff, look down to wonder
about things? Deep within the fir forest nearby, a 
few men are riding in  -  through snow and wind  -
on their heavily-encrusted white horses. Huge 
blankets hang from the back of each steed as the
men stage themselves for entry. The great drawbridge
clanks down  -  noisy chainlinks cranked open by
muscled men.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

6376. MY FAIR SHARE

MY FAIR SHARE
My fair share of nothing  -  I've just found out  -  
comes to nothing itself at all. Well fuck-god-damn
for that. I better just walk away. I'll take myself to
the boat-docks over Perth Amboy way; maybe have
a drink or two at the Armory there  -  some big-time
restaurant with a bar and Spanish food. Or Portuguese,
what do I know? For you meat-eaters, they've even got
Rodizio! Which is like five kinds of meat, all you can
eat, brought to you constantly on a huge skewer. One thing
after the other, whatever you like, and carved for you right
there. It's nice. The place is nautical  -  got slammed in that
Hurricane Sandy blitz, but it seems they came back all right.
-
For myself, I just get a big bowl of rice  -  some Spanish 
concoction with peppers and things. Crazy how they serve
this shit; they should really just keep it simple. Then, upstairs,
there's always a wedding or reception for something going on  -
crazy, screaming girls in their formal attire, or not nearly at
all  -  there's no middle ground. They're chicken-dancing and
all a'twirl. I really don't know if anyone realizes that we're
watching from 'below' them  -  whoever laid out that stupid
balcony and railing area made a big mistake. For them anyway.
-
I don't want to sound trance-like or even stupid, but what the hell. 
(I think I'm getting drunk : should I stop right here? Is this already
too much confession? One time there was, yes, I, um, went to the 
men's room and, oh, well, better not; why configure bad aces in
a hand that's otherwise so good  -  full house, royal flush, or, no
is that just me? What did I say my share of nothing was? Nothing?
Yes, yes, yes, that's the one.)

6375. LOOKS RIGHT ENOUGH FOR ME

LOOKS RIGHT 
ENOUGH FOR ME
I am writing a post like John Steinbeck;
worried to death over the down and the out.
I am writing a post like Max Reinhardt;
Isle of the Blessed, and Venetian Nights
will do. I head southward, to get out of 
the way of both the lions and the tamers 
as well. Cannot stand either. I'm now
listening to someone else try to sing
like Janis Joplin : a Texas-blaze of
screeching sound, like a political
convention inside a cave. Don't
want that; hate the rave.
-
Instead of all this, I'll grab a coffee with
Faye Wray. Maybe, someday. Listening 
to all she has to say, I'd wonder if I 
should ask about King Kong.

6374. OF ALL THE PESTILENTIAL MOMENTS

OF ALL THE 
PESTILENTIAL MOMENTS.
Of all the pestilential moment I've ever faced, I am
sure to say I've liked you the best. Even with traffic 
and cars whizzing by, the dumbo behind the wheel
of the salt-spreader plow gives a wave. All these 
township and boro guys, I know too many of them
and they act like I'm part of their team. Long and
unkempt, I guess my manners keep them in mind
of the bar room they just left, or to which they're
going. OK with that. I should be there too.
-
It's different in the big city, Tyrone. The guys there,
they watch their curbs and the cars that are parked.
God forbid they should take off a mirror or tip at
a bumper; there'd be city hell to pay. Let alone
City Hall. the papers and the lawsuit, here they
come. Caution, like a taxi light, all the way.
-
Of all the pestilential moments I've survived, yes
you're the very best. Acting the part of the maiden
I squandered, or the best-friend's sister with whom
I've eloped. I can't put my finger on it, yet. Or, I
guess you know then what I'm meaning. Life is a
sinister curve at a quite well-attended racetrack,
and everywhere the lights are beaming.

Friday, February 20, 2015

6373. THE HAND-HELD MOMENT

THE HAND-HELD MOMENT
If Nature was a friend to me I'd gladly walk her
hollows; the titillation of her gorges and the
rocks and waterfalls throughout. I'd camp out
in Watkins Glen illegally, just to see her
respiration : deep and dark in Midnight's
night, I'd follow every glimmer of the
onrushing light, of morning, of day,
of every next-up constellation.
-
Gladly, most gladly, I'd be a scientist
for Loving : measuring in great spoonfuls
whatever the dosages may be. Take it down
in one great gulp, swig it back, right from this
stolen bottle. Walk to the hilltop, high and drunk.
-
I have a lizard friend who knows reptilian ways;
he sports a moustache made of rodeo money and
speaks the languages of rodeo clowns. Rides horses
into church on Sunday, breaks a sweat, and sits right down.

6372. THE MAN IS A HEADACHE

THE MAN IS A HEADACHE
Fifteen feet of rope should be enough? With
which to hang oneself? Enough to jump, but
more than enough, most of the time, to hit 
the floor. Unless a bridge is used  -  far, far,
down you go  -  but no more than fifteen feet.
Such calculations make me giddy.
-
Peptic ulcer and gonorrhea.
Ulcerated colon and swollen glands.
I mean to say, Doctor Pickerel,
take your pick of anyone's ailments.
They are now all billable.
-
The white sheets atop the closet shelf?
Or they for the beds, or to wrap the dead?

6371. AND THEN I JUST DECIDED

AND THEN I JUST DECIDED
'What did you say instead of that when they
for volunteers?' I considered the question as
something of the moment, and then I replied, 
'Well, instead of stepping forward I took ten
steps back.' Everyone was laughing. This was
the stock market crowd; the ones who blather
about everything, and cheer to incremental climbs
just as much as the large ones. Everyday, something
better. A few steps back (just like me, no wonder 
they laughed) and then just more ahead again.

6370. THE THINGS THEY CARRIED WERE NOT ALWAYS THEIR OWN (false names)

THE THINGS THEY 
CARRIED WERE NOT 
ALWAYS THEIR OWN
(false names)
Like George Orwell and Rebecca West,  an agreed-upon premise each,
sometimes the false things you decide upon just end up working well.
Eric Blair and Cicely Fairfield, down and out no matter. A band of
Gypsy-Romanys brushing through town would have no less problem
than this in the taking  -  draperies, maybe cars, and even a dog or
a cat. Jewelry, tools. But never names? Who ever heard of that?
-
I park this purloined nomenclature on your couch forever, and
please there let it stay : I can be all of my imaginings, and the
stronger for the doing. You will little notice what I do or say.
Adventures such as these come along but once; my friends,
were they ever still around, would say. They tell you all
about me. But now  -  alas  -  I have none at all, and there
is no one present to attest yo my worth. I never stole
a thing, far less this majestic name with which I jest.
-
I've just  -  darest thee let me say  -  grown tired of the
battlements and towers; I weary of carrying these
frightful arms up all these stairways again. For what?
To fight a fruitless mob of enemies down below me
at the moat, squabbling and screaming their now
unsightly mismash, claiming fealty to another
King I hardly know, nor wish to. Death then,
to all of them, their scribes and what they
write as well. Give me my straightened
name and real  - with that I'll walk away.

6369. THE REST OF US ON THE GOOFY CLIMB

THE REST OF US 
ON THE GOOFY CLIMB
Narrow lumber, left in place, with the snow and the
ice crusted on. Sheets of this are everywhere. A frozen
world well suits these sheets of glass. I will follow
what I need to follow, all the while walking with care.
-
But for now, the melody again : I think that I shall get
away and take the drive to Mandalay. Is that what they
would have sung in 1928? I don't know and I can't say.


Thursday, February 19, 2015

6368. HOLDING BACK

HOLDING BACK
The quiz prize! The quiz prize! You nearly won
the quiz prize! Nothing matters like that. Reading
a subway book on those rickety rails.  Above my
head, an enormous city is running back and forth.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

6367. BOTH HELD AS HOSTAGE AND LEFT FOR DEAD

BOTH HELD AS HOSTAGE 
AND LEFT FOR DEAD
I'd have to think that would be the summation of what
I've got : the story of the new century, or even the old;
is there to be a difference? I had an atom bomb for
breakfast, and a plutonium biscuit for a snack. The
rest I leave for your Corsican finish.
-
Mabel wash the car. Pablo, set the newest table. Leave
the sorters for the momentary witness to do. Here is where
I'll sit just washing it all down with fire and  water together. 
I've been hostage, and now left for dead too.
The rest I leave, for your Corsican finish.

6366. I'M OF A MIND...

I'M OF A MIND
I'm of a mind enough to petition for redress, to take 
things down, a notch or two below par. To shallow 
the hackets of the educated crowd, and rip up their 
warrants and warts together : as one, their facile ways 
have got to go. And to those who pretend at being 
what they never have been, to them I send a new knife, 
with instructions, 'to take out your own heart with.'
-
I'm ever enough of a cad to go forward : I've garnered
the 'temptation to exist' and brought it within me. It was
quite easy, actually. As in my reading of The Charterhouse
of Parma, both Mosca and Fabrizio could be my friends. 
I am old now, but I want to say to myself :
 'what has all this aging accomplished?'

6365. THIS DERELICTION OF DUTY

THIS DERELICTION OF DUTY
I'm walking about unarmed, you see, through darkened
city streets where the cold winds blow. It's not easy
staying sane, or straight, or even focused here. I swear
a heard some cur just growl  -  yet I can't see a thing.
If a dog bites, is it always at the lower leg you get bit?
Or do they lunge as well, go for the face or chest?
How's that? There a van, over there, but it's only
a fruit guy loading up his wares for delivery. All
these million little stores, they need their pears
and apples. I still daydream of Frank O'Hara,
up on 53rd, and all those strange addresses 
he had. I could take his laughter again.
It's a stub, this measly cigarette.
Nowhere to burn but down,
this candle, that burns
away.

6364. TREASURE TROVE OF ATTIC MATTER

TREASURE TROVE 
OF ATTIC MATTER
Whatever happens under the doctor's eye has
got to be marked in the ledger : stethescope, which
somehow has nothing to do with scoping or a
visual, rather audioscope would be better apt. 
It's just an old photo of some professional in a
white lab coat with one of those around his
neck. Then there are race-car pictures, which
are not, as you'd think 'race', those old photos
of lynchings and such  -  as disgusting as they
come. But with equivalances they say, these
days, to ISIS and to the Crusades. So warm,
all this stuff to the heart. And then here are
some ancient 45's  -  old 'race music', which
had nothing, on the other hand, to do with
cars, but was rather the blues of black people.
How does one figure all this stuff out?

6363. THUMBNAIL SKETCH

THUMBNAIL SKETCH
My friend Aleck has a middle name of 'No' ;
the guy I drive cross-country with, he's an 
ex-con from from Topeka. We're leaving
from Brooklyn now and have nowhere else
to go. He's had the TV on for two hours :
Morning Joe and Larry King.
-
It'll take us five hours to get to Canton, PA.
There we'll stop for coffee. He'll eat; I won't.
There's very little else to do, endless driving
and all. Tress and hills race by the window.
-
We left from the old Brooklyn Navy Yard.
It's not that now, just a bunch of artisan types,
making mugs and pottery, small paintings
and jewelry; teas and coffee, sold and stacked.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

6362. MIZ LILIENTHAL

MIZ LILIENTHAL
I have seen the water overflowing its banks and the lines
on the outside shed-walls telling of mud and how high the
river rose. I have seen where the cows were taken in from
Canal Road under threat of drowning. A real little-Calcutta,
right here. The fence was twisted and turned by the force.
-
I've kept silent in such a deluge before  -  things floating
by me, real things : the buried Elmira dead, in 1972;
Hurricane Agnes unearthing the dead in their floating
coffins; the kid who was killed on the island in the
Chemung. Houses and barns the just crumbled.
-
Living on this land is no picnic for sure : window-glass
breaks in the wind; is there a connection with the name?
Tom Faulkert's silo went down; corn silage and junk
everywhere. Cattle braying, geese on alert;
the cattle braying, and the geese on alert.

Monday, February 16, 2015

6361. SULLEN MEN ARE DINING

SULLEN MEN ARE DINING
Business is sweet : 'two coins in the fountain' :
and the fellow with the wine list stands straight
at their table. The quiet sound of that old music
is overhead. They gesticulate to each other what
best goes with lunch. The waiter stands straight
at their table. 'Three coins in the fountain, each
one seeking happiness.' The selection is over.
-
'Three hearts in the fountain'. I want to get
alongside them and push this scene along -
they've squandered time, and they don't even
realize it. 'Each one longing for its home.'
-
What is it all, that I have outlived by now?
Warfare and idol worship? Why, no, sir.
Decadence and despair? Why no, sir.
These two fey goons, dreaming of
all they have? Why no, sir.
'Which one will the
fountain bless?'
-
The waiter is back at their table.

6360. REDSTONE

REDSTONE
St. Michael on the corner, Redd Foxx in
the doorway; it's the time of bells and whistles.
The very old calendar still hanging on the
workshop wall reads back some twenty 
years. I guess it's been that long since 
we've energized the tractor.
-
At daybreak, the count of the frozen dead
was twelve. At six below and with the
wind it doesn't take long at all. Alcohol
covets the system, like hunger hammers
the mind. These men became possessed
by their own fixations.