May First Oh-Nine

1 05 2009

4AM

breathe slowly and enjoy the creeping night /
boy huff puff the shadows with bushy eyes \ sweep out the ashes
till the sickness of venetian blades rising /
burns through delusions \ like a good blunt
smiles and twitches and refuses to grow old //

this industry of immortals, this city of vampires \
deep in our stiletto shoes, we are all a million years old /
lifetimes ago, we must have signed something without reading it  –
pitchforks tuned to disaster
and all tails pointed to a sleepless bliss //

10AM

morning class:

every negative thought is an intrusion!
he keeps himself gated up,

mind-twisted, like a peacock

yoga mind
(he progresses)
straining for half the world
like coffee, except coffee is unhealthy
he eats ezekiel and wakes up at 4:09
stretches harder and harder to reassure himself, leg             up so high

so pure
chops critics with his mind

him maverick

——-

5PM

i am nervous, skidding across the surface, aware of my short skirt
i caught an old woman / subway laser tag

wish, wash / gazes across
like being filtered through a synth phaser:
moods changing / attack and frequency rising

tremolo!
everyone so variably perceptive

——

8PM

and then somebody got caught under the L-train
clogged up all the hip arteries to the underworld
blood spills onto buses
unhappy transfers: people i’d never talk to /
asking me where is the J? M? Z?
Metropolitan? Avenue?

on cell phones: “did you hear about the person who died?”
shocked girl. so shocked.

too many people at a bus stop
eyes peer out from tinted windows, dreadfully
stomachs prepare for the crowded air

bag lady hands folded on bus
never asked for this
why people fussing on my route
whi’ people always fussin’

J? M? Z?

artsy artist says i’\m gonna be independent
finds an artsy bicycle

punk with no ears no more
i don’/t know anything about a fucking train delay

home voice:
Crushed Neighbors Make Friendship from Subway Accident

——

11PM

notebook smelling of cigarettes
charred flesh inside me where
pages turn fluff
gray hairs on a strangers’ head
music, never mine

tired cafes
where English sprays out
amid mouthfuls of beer
and chewed up diagnostics
lays afoot all dreams

hi-hats roll over
cracked voices

—–

12AM

runaway children
where are all the families you deny?
pierce your face with me
so we can retrace our roots
with better fantasies

deny our food
prefer to dive into ghettos
treasures from fetishized things tossed aside
but this Spanish ain’t ours: why hide?
walls hugging our romantic corruption
are so fragile

I dare not ask
where you come from, really
we all have our fronts
and our backs
who am I to deny you
your victimhood?
I’m content
we have our smokin’ mirrors to blur out the obvious lack of art here


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