written on a train

TIMES

I will be out tomorrow (Friday Septermber 25th) afternoon. Usual spot (University Pl. between 13th & 14th Streets).

Poems 9/24/09

Trash

for Molly

ages of the seasons

your shreds ripped, calling

materials mixed:

moments, memos, mementos

reasons, reasons

some left others gone-

thrown casually as others-

as when fall,

infinite blossoms, deathly still and crackling

out the window looked.

--------------------------

On First Opening Eyes

On first opening eyes the silently bright piercing light. Eyes eyes broken eyes scheming to again. On first opening eyes the jarring sound of awake and conscious the reality as it catches within unsteady lungs. On first opening eyes scents left to night uprising violent from current peripheral. On first opening eyes swinging feet off the bed and acting on the first promise of the day, tooth brushing, yawning, shitting whatever it may be. Or have been. On first opening eyes, on first promise of day, on second promise of day, those other things disturbing the solitude so perfectly crated, artisan dreams, and the emptiness of the unfulfilled. Sullen and somewhat sleepless still  opened eyes break upon new shores of vision, slight cracks opened breaking from folds obscure. This deep deep quiet of oceans below oceans under sea level and you the naive diver unaware of the bends and now the hyperbaric of morning, ah the painful lust of understanding. And here you still are your half-awake self lulled back and forth conveyed to sleep and back to wakeful with worries of before a deluge unending. Over and over you repeat to self, if only ten minutes longer, if only, the feeling much softer, much better. And suddenly a soft sweetness, the first song of morning, the heavenly sound of gentle vocals hum of accompaniment. Swaying slightly on her little breeze and rhythm of movement, too, sinking in. Moments and moments later you will remember this moment and the tranquil alive rushing through to a heady place. Attracting floes of thought and now the speedway has been opened difficult impossible to shut, revel in it. Finishing last exercises and things undone. Do what you came to do and get out. Out into the vast globe and compression of matter, force uplifting downtrodding and out you go go go. The shattering of before now a picking up and regrouping, collected almost you feel and brilliance descents as if from gods. Praise the Lord, one shouts in the distance, and you do not object. And from first opening eyes to first activities of day, the swinging pendulum swings sweet.

----------------

Southerly winds and sudden heat. 

Pages sliced beachside while sipping sangria. 

Summer at the Seashore, Hamptons. 

Some thoughts, thank yous and "Children" for the man who's e-mail address I lost

Hello World,

At the moment my Poem Shop is on hiatus (rain, chill, classes, distance between Upper West side and 13th & University), meaning if you stop by during my usual hours you will NOT find me writing. For this I am sorry. I truly would love nothing more than to sit and watch your grumpy/quizzical/smiling/insert-adjective-here faces file past, then backtrack and ask me for poems. SO, this is how it is going to work from now on until I can set up a regular schedule again. I will post either the night before, or the morning of, my location and hours. I doubt anyone checks this blog that often, but if one does, I will be findable. In any case, I will still be writing poems and will still be posting them here. 

Second order of business: I would like to thank a few people that have helped me out over the summer. First, family (though you all probably never read this), second Kale and the three french poodles (they are french poodles, right?), Charlie (I hope that is your name) and basset hound Cecilia who brought me water every morning, and the doormen at 8 University Pl. The guys from Cinema Village (is that where you work?). Just putting that out there. William. And of course all of my customers (kindest, most generous). 

Finally: 

I don't remember what your name is, but you wanted a poem about "Children" (you came by with your fiancée/girlfriend/significant other and bought another poem a week or two after asking for this one). Anyway, I moved and lost your e-mail in the move. Since I haven't seen you/won't see you for a while and want you to get your $2 worth, here is your poem:

Children

manifest temptation and the cycle of sin repeating to no end

causation causation and DNA replication

one in another and one in another

one and one two and two being one, now three

define on what is not

define on possiblity

define concepts arrived at at youth

youth begetting youth

still youth

cyclical errors and time misspent

buckle down, clench teeth, get to it

below the threshold of higher human capability

animalistic tendency, rip open the box. 

Anayvelyse

September 11, 2009

New York, NY

8/25/2009

One of My Friends Died Last Week

eking out an existence

coronary impulses to make a break

subversively bloodstream

canceling out those minor medical epiphanies

us resulting in a total of fleshy mass

how to recall a being after death

----------------------

Only a Dollar

only a dollar

suffices to save

stow it away

million years later

more than any other

one little dollar

begets more little dollars

----------------------------------

Leaving

the bifurcation of paths

as I separate leaf from stem

splitting hairs to unravel a distance,

quantify absence.

The slivers strewn across park fork

and you and I leaving

while these hands leafing.

some time last week

La Route

stuck on the current

petals as to us

broken off wayside

and grappling with inertia

pausing only briefly

spoken words to the lilt of the wind

------------------------

New York

Speaking words of a linear sort

not unlike city and its speak

grappling with foreign idioms

an idea lost in visual translation-

pushed inwards

space shared-

though sounding communicable

needing pre-digestion, deeper immersion

getting to the bottom of this

speak

---------------------

Poem for Josephine

stack the block

topple the block

seize the block

throw the block

eat the block-

no, don't eat the block-

hold the block

just hold the block

pack the block

love the block

----------------------

A Blue Trolley

broken

particles

littered

countryside

you took the train

and when it

snap

ped

a crumb l i n g disappointment

so venged.

Poems 8/24/09

Chaos

begging the quiet of surrounding city
lengthy digits to snuff sirens as if pulling coins of lunar magnification
silent you slept in that bed
and now, return
here submerged in sound chained to motion
sweeping through mountains tunnel married
record skipping when replayed
and then attainment-
what you asked for-
loneliness of the boulevard at dawn

--------------------------

Smells

diaspora of the living
opening onto your horizon of cleanliness
your bleach as the stench stings
cracking open the palette and allowing a drizzle of drool
the subway at night after you
forty second 7 and i bathe in it
hold on train, thoughts pool
hold fast, would that i could stay longer
and back home sooner than expected
back to bleach
back to your diasporic cleansing

---------------------------

Future

opening onto concrete realities and their manifestations
triggering processes linked to chains of events:
dinner out
diner, chrome booth and counter top
burger medium well deluxe
and what follows:
cook
eat
water
eat
clearing of plate & check & pay
outta there and feeling satisfied
determining the enjoyment despite the things lost in the process
feet carry to where they know to go.