05-24-09
New York the State of the Empire
Warsaw sprung wind mills
in the safe red dusk.
Buffalo. To search for wings.
We never went to the East Side.
All the marshmallow farms:
memories.
Hay fields.
White guy like Dan Deacon lookalike.
Three Dead Deer
Critters overturned (bellies expunge)
We can use the highways wisely.
The sunken airports just never took off.
Smoking room at Comfort Inn.
Northern PA all rolling hills:
all greenwash.
Waiting for the taxi.
Anne Marie Russian Vodka Drink Er
Cops babe on upscale monitor:
smoking room but not for inside.
Do not smoke anywhere but in the smoking room.
Cops in Fort Worth.
Orange tooth paste.
Waiting waiting.
A dead wolf on the highway.
Crows swooping on the highway.
No narcotics deals on
Cops in Fort Worth.
What carrion on the HW!
18W--17--81N
GPS machine. No memory.
Just sky god.
Broken. Finally. Finale.
Plenty of hot water.
Biggest carrion:
picnic table. Judging swerve.
This American Life.
Through Painted Post.
30m-p-h in Village.
BBQ Sunflower Seeds.
Dirty PA bathroom.
Small coffee. Thick syrup moon.
Salmon clouds filled the sky.
Another evil mass:
we are the penumbra.
Every NY highway lets you go 85 mph
without a single copy; even the rest
areas are paradisiacal. Militia-men
hide in the shadowlands. This is the
age of Obama foreclosures. We must
escape. Taste a different centrum.
Explorations.
A journal called PRINTS.
05-25-09
Toronto.
Stationed between downtown below that blooming tower.
Blown foam with Amazon Obsession.
Twin showgirls along Bada Bing fence.
Walking through Buffalo's streets left us
with a sense of callous abandonment.
It was where Jeff's parents grew up.
We could never live in it.
Stay away from the East Side, they said.
Saw on Allen Ave (and Chippewa)
cool babes crouching low.
A gay neighborhood with drag queens.
Bigger than Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
Nietzsche's Bar an utter disappointment.
Imagining the streets with 15 feet
pure white snow.
A man needed a quarter and may have spat on my pants after I rejected.
In Niagara Falls other disappoints.
No cab driver. No cobs.
----
In Kensington Market.
Ronnie's local 069.
Enzinger beer in tall glasses.
Or was it Kenzinger. Does it matter.
Rimmed with lemon. Tongue.
The counter culture shop
and ideas of the drum circle.
Empire. Hope. Obama shirts here.
Coffee from the nut house.
Vintage clothing and vintage Asians.
All along the Memorial Day cusp.
Tuesday a pattern.
Italian Job--star cast starless plot.
Hot Box weed cafe but no weed only blues.
Must find the gayborhood.
But this cafe. Empire Empire.
Chinatown. Not enough grid iron.
Not enough Negro.
Streets are trash boxes:
a punch to the day face.
Must find the theatre.
Before the GPS god derailed us:
Black shades on women hankering
like French maidens. Bicycling
on through this transition residence.
5.99 for 24 batteries.
Drug arts. Internet game cafes.
Public art for public artists.
This is all better than dropped
collar Italians with their babes.
Babes as appendages. Babes as clothing.
Lack thereof. Nouns. Noons.
Babes as language. Lack thereof.
Black glass turnover.
Token homeless man.
Token with chill less summer.
Aired and conditioned.
We ate chocolate and cookies
and Wendy’s and wondered about
that apple at the border
and the bogus Tim Horton’s addiction.
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