I AM WARP THE HOOF
Triangle Shirtwaist stuff, and the Brown
Building, and all those ancient girls impaled
on fenceposts. Each time I walk by I die anew.
My lot in life : to associate with the burden of
each and every other. This is not an easy task.
I have no modern features, am an old disgruntled
soul; larking profundities and scheming profanities,
what more can I do? I want to smother you with my
concern. Redemption is a single circle whole - once
I close it, I am free.
Like everyone else, I am everyman too. I draw
pictures with my mind and - like this! - they
come to life. But then I have to care for them.
(I am sitting in a cab along eighth avenue watching
a crowd of protest surge and swerve. They remain
angry about something, something of no concern to
me. This man behind the wheel here, he begins telling
me how I will be late and he cannot help it. I smile to
him in the mirror. 'It's okay, fella', I say,
'all will be forgiven in the end').