Thursday, June 30, 2011

I don't care anymore, this is my life

Who'd ever heard a'
gas station turnpike New
Jersey swamps? Driver AWOL and
no ones got the balls to step up and drive
this sonuvabitch double decker blue beauty
PA bound over quotable Ben Franklin
& his darling bridge (also blue)-- My
murky brown-green waters like jewelry
in the sun, crackle hiss miss
in golden summer rays rays, this
must be the road the gators take
to New York sewers circa 1888 on
weekend vacations from Florida
tired a' golfers lost their 80 dollar
Topflite balls and go divin' clear
everglade water hazard arms dun
been bit right off "Oh, holy shit Christ!"
the government'll reattach it, or watch ya
die, just mark off your sosh, three-two-four
it's what ties us to those great heroes
of American pasts, Oh, and the income tax, too

Now let's get this bus a' rollin' south mama so's
I can ice this knee Broadway tired
and Broad Street stoned;

We're alone on Bus little sailboat, sailing down
only you and me, we're floating home
or away from home or whatever home is
anyways, and where we're going?
I don't know...

Seems about the right time

Boy the East River looks nice today
though I hear it's really shit
and that's what Long Island looks like
if that's what I'm looking at (or just tagging),
no wonder the Islanders are bad
(but young), makes me think--
passing under "safe" pedestrian tunnel--
I amble--never made my peace with hero
Doug Weight's retirement (how we're all
dying--older dying, gray haired dying--
look at me-- dying) still wonder
at that old number 39 magical passes in
the offensive zone coated white ice,
transition back check between those blue lines
While I'm here at East Riverside Park not
sweating under the trees, little sickly New York
sad trees, safe from computer entry, every website
BLOCKED, slave labor internships about ready
to say BYE-BYE New York skyline,
hello New Jersey, rest in the orange grip
of Philadelphia--
some currents on the surface are brown,
Where fore swims the fishies, oh?
crying, burnt out in the waves?

Reachin out to the my past so pillowy gone

Why there me Newark in the fog,
what must be goings on on
Broad Street? There I'd get
peanuts (one dollar) walk with bottle
water and catch the sunny glint off
big Prudential cause all the buildings
in Newark say Prudential, at least all
the ones I seen, even the one
that buried Chinatown, Planes
takin' off to their towns
other towns & cities America other
time zones urban sprawl and
dying, wouldn't you say? so say that
other Penn Station down near Market
Street gateway to the Ironbound, Brazil,
Men in old jalopy yellin' out windows
traffic struck not movin' an inch, Portuguese
is what ya hear & music, ya there's music
coming from off by the railroad railyards,
but I'm past it (years pass) Budweiser ever
crawling, even on wheels, double axle--
Oh, Newark
for soft bed and rest

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Suns over Newark

Crash stars go heavenly Passiac
waters steel skeleton rusted
holy angels, boney rot rot
golden man's sun on
New Jersey, wherefore did'st
thou star tumble in blue globe
upside down, I must be watching from
the Milky Way yeah, See all the
cute dead burnt circles dwindle teeter
blinking out
million miles away

Monday, June 27, 2011

Stormy Bus Stop

Brown funny high rise topped by
wooden water towers and
my little 5 year old self
thought they were made up
in my youthful Spider-Man comics
and villains  terrorizing New York Water Supply,
sun dips below the hard blue
cloud ridge, solid and only its light
a memory, memorial; It's beginning
to look like Megabus standing in rain,
winds got that summer roll on
thunderstorm feel and track to
track regional NJ Transit lays
down foreboding prelude, time to
rain, saw Noah's immemorial pasts
preparing for God's sad storms

Sunday, June 26, 2011


Here I am without tv
and writing comes so
naturally (Oh, without internet too)
just pencil & notebook,
adjacent to my table- two men
one high on heroin? Saw the
needle used, showed his friend
(grand scheme) one cop I guess, said
He'd have shared but bathrooms
locked and buzzes, my shirts sticky
with sweat almost forgot it's-- warm outside
in the climate controlled AC, it seems like
winter or some calm fall day in paintings;

that's a lie, it's balmy-- hot,
felicia'd say it's like Taiwan,
almost, cept less humid-- how that
could be true, I'd hate to know and
clack of walkie-talkie down the aisle, if
only my phone'd charge I could
get to the bus station, sweat and wait
for my driver-- throw my shit inside;

I'm going- south Philadelphia
hop the bus

Saturday, June 25, 2011

I had a religious experience

Grays outside across street
woman in gold skirt and low cut
black blouse takes cellphone stance
(in building opposite) and watches
teeming like 1950s Times Square
crowds sense of loss--somethings
Wow a cd player, its been awhile
UFO saucer shaped player of
useless shit, I listen to the haunting echo of
footprints, cash register tolls, men
holler to each other 'cross street
construction caverns,
the NOW classical music of the
urban fantasy, tall buildings overlook
tired souls, oh, we're empty like little
sad pigeons pecking our way through shit
and precious stones--
     smell of concrete crumble,
I just realized it's over cast--it's
what I meant by gray outsides
and no rain, are you kidding me, no rain
just cloudless cloudy gray sky
whirling endlessly magnetized
growing cancerous cells whyxxxzl
Hail Mary mother of God
pray for us ignorant masses
diving headlong into bleak subways
inhaling smokey plants and
cellphone tower waves, pray
for us who have been dead since birth
sleeping on street corner madness dying
     knock down our roachy walls
our brick-a-brack terror dreams
slipping molassas thick rises
purply dawn--
grant us your womb
so that sadness and life the living
death, aging may release its golden
liar grip
     I've fallen like bridge and choas
Bus gurgles hours off down 95
straight away sit floor above n' roll
two hours older
I miss all my suffering ones
Your youthful eyes

Thus it is
forever today and

Thursday, June 23, 2011

D E -

With trolling voices this is
when I--
Aww Hell, I conjure you face
sweet smile & dark hair cut now
but once wavy over your eyes,
I'm ready to say "fuck"
and walk out, hear the road
crunching outside underneath
the subway lines out Brooklyn
to bus station & anywhere else,
Great West stretching to
mile wide Mississippi or
southern heat and fresh fruit river delta
instead of bluey floors
water treatment tanks
talking bitches
boring ass videos-- beep beep deep deep
Cas Calloway--

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Moses traveling the East River

No sun & no stars, that's you
Manhattan mid-town sky,
it's night-time blue glow
eerie phantom spectral sunset,
reflect blackened windows go-go-go
up 30 stories easy
new-age pyramids commemorating
corporate greed, CEO bonuses
and high-rise offices (how cliche')

Dear old Robert Moses-asleep
face up in pretty grave-
how many flowers are laid at your feet
still? You take them,

we take one glance at shiny grinning face &
walk some 20 blocks,
Oh, well a poems in there somewhere,
Ya love New York.

St. Patrick improv

I make believe (I'm a child) childishly
that I'm sitting strung out facing Kerouac New York
in his seat at foot of St. Patrick's Cathedral
dusk and rush hour
heavy wood romantic doors behind
rushing crowds run off to live to die
come from Times Square ignore marble steps
but heartbroken there's a restoration
project & stained glass window
Visions of Cody is obscured
ah, there the police are going again,
so murdered at birth we are
an' linear streets go-ooooooh
North and South
over the bland walls left stranded,
I'm contemplating the setting sun already set
in reality not really setting just floating
or falling? Or not even there?
The end of a sentence & fire rages near
near hot dog stand, what's a cop's care in
Old York but terrorizing the ice cream man?
We sure as hell are fucked,

Monday, June 20, 2011

Pencil shavings

Went back & walked NYC
without you, felt alone beneath lonely tall buildings,
like I could cry for all the children growing old
unknowingly in 5th Avenue penthouse apartments
talking on wireless headsets & dodging traffic--

Hey me! Retarded anachronism sketching notes
on white notebook while you're on solid blue bus
rolling south on I95 steady, everyone of
those passengers locked into G3 matrix reveries
awaiting the AI messiah, I'll hold you for the rapture
if it comes, where it's extra-dimentional insane--

and why, oh, why won't this notebook scroll down?


Car breaks squeal at steady intervals
light switching NYC street
up above I catch the sound
with my hand with my ear with my nose
inside two story raised roof terrace
rooms rising (fallingrising) up two more stories
Chelsea Star Hotel like
Arabic Middle Eastern Flag logo
brown & sandy under
heavy powder blue sky sifted,
the world's so small for eyes
yet big & clumsy & beautiful (sometimes)
for the mind if only we'd
see it as it is on strings spinning round
firey gods, timeless and young--

Saturday, June 18, 2011


What time is it? Jesus...
I can't tell and tho the
light's off I see
everything like shit
's still in the toilet and this
last beer tastes like I'm only
trying to finish it to sleep and
is that all I am container for
poisonous gases liquefied, how
I've forgotten to write anything
but the truth that burns
magnesium bright in tonight,
or wherever whichever how I am
an estranged idiot who works best
as holy spectre, respected only
because I'm never seen walking alone,
I'd drop my head to the sound of roving
cars outsidebeside wide open sky
blue blue fireball ozone thrill, Me
I've many miles to bleed for the horizon
all lonely skeleton x-rayed paradise perspective
like my little boy stoner voice
bewitched bewitching fucked

Friday, June 17, 2011


Who'd sit across from me?
Would bury their head,
do bugs strike same wound twice
like i think they did,
itching my leg, trying to
conjure images of no sensation
which don't work all that well
with rambling and a lot of
words start double u--

it's obvious
and lighthearted,

decaying in my bag are
nectarine & orange,
look at the food square,
pyramid, circle,
it's accurate & important,

Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Well when I sat at that
church near Rockafeller
decadent plaza

in NYC

Did I raise my head from
angry parents, tight skirts and fragrant lunches
to catch
filtered light on stained glass relief
50-->60 years


flies on charcoal colored trash cans
an' finnish kid sleeping off 15 hour
jet lagged awkward convo

in room

when I gotta shit (and do)
real quick, get outta there,
let'em sleep yes

I think to ask him--
what the fuck?

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Reread I'm nothingness

One chapter of my great epic
     complete (minus editing/
a reread) on to progressively
     denser stuff--

It's daunting
     me poor poet of Philadelphia
born teller of disjointed
     impressionist illusions
jotting jotting pencil marks
     typed word document reading notes,

I saw Monet today,  he frowned
     read Kerouac, in some spa
cried of lonely nights
     and mosquito bites
doused in second hand smoke

Monday, June 13, 2011


Nice of them to open roof terrace
when I'm paying over
50 dollars, one night
for a room smaller (and not to
mention with less privacy)
then a cage motel in 1940s skid row
oh Lord, or St. Francis of Assisi
give me my bum accommodations
bless these tired feet with
your stigmata,
umbrella rotates counter-clock-wise
back-and-forth in the windy
late afternoon
two floors up and I've
no dinner--
some trail mix,
afraid to leave my bags behind

Sunday, June 12, 2011


the night's a sequential imaginary
beer can filled left to right chorus and
the rain's pit-pat-sheeeeeerrrrvvvv
chaaaachaaaaeeerrvvvv tiiiiiisssssss 
fillin' up the street vinyl gazebo it
won't stop falling and we're stuck
like first thing I thought of's gone
raspberry sun and morning milkshake clouds

Saturday, June 11, 2011

A Poem about Manhattan

Motor carrier NYPD Safety Unit
leans on courtesy, professionalism, respect
white & blue police van nice slick hair and
authoritative face officer-something-something
wave to passing fire engine going
west on 31st street toward
Manhattan fires or crazy
taxi cab yellow car collisions,
help us cross the street
that River Styx buildings
so high they siphon light through steel tubes &
look like Hades New Yorkers
fear death and worship downcast faces on Broadway
lit up golden

Thursday, June 9, 2011


Starting to taste the
unsqueezed lemons in this tea
ha ha um I cool down 99c on
31st street and 8th ave
laugh to myself bout guys gonna
park to wheel in a bunch'a yeast
labeled fragile on the brown cardboard box-- well
my hat sinks lower but
my head burns softly
in hours closer to 6pm
where yesterday the sunset lined
up to flow of streets (how rare! the urban plan!)
the great get-away
my my empty trunk slinking
home when work & day is done

Chelsea Stars

The Chelsea Star Hotel
what's there to say?
It's a piece of shit with
this metal sheet floor,
little diamond shapes like the
back of a fire engine
luggage goes tunk tunk clunk
four beds to room,

woo hoo
I can't wait to clutch at my pillow in sleep
waiting for the pretty breath
of dorm-mate girl (saw H&M bag
but you never know)
and the glint red moon
of her knife


Beginning to suspect
Subway & Dunkin' Donuts are
owned by the same monolithic
gobble-up mega-corporate
unless they just play the radio
under mahogany lights and
I'm the jester catching
subliminal messaging--
and how?
'cause I hold my bags real tight
no one'd take'em
I'd like to see them try
got one eye on them
and my feet

Wednesday, June 8, 2011


Wonder if all these heads
thinking, believe I'm a phantom,
a figment in the psychological
filament, like I know they are rainbow
creations of my fevered god mind
what fool horror I am to birth this world
to see everyone die in fear,
unknown eating the fishy afterbirth gluttonous
monster, stalking the aged, the young,
the pretty ignorant couple, the saint,
sinner, the rich, the poor,
criminal of all Aeons purged

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

It was Anniversary of D-Day

I wanted to sleep
along sound of cars
passing sadly in the egg yolk night,
I packed my pillow, tucked
under right arm, black socks
and black comfortable shorts,
old cut at knees sweatpants &
eternal white string-already-tied, tip-toed
downstairs, taste of toothpaste
linger, sat on white couch too
small for legs but closest to
window over street, the damned music/
the misty myth, outside
boiled up in gurgling water (dangerous),
I rest my head above angry four wheel drivers, and
where's this road go but north and south
it's lovely-what-I-wished-for-sleep

Monday, June 6, 2011


Thinking of sleeping in that hostel
is making me rethink this whole
internship New York DEP thing
Me and five maybe six other
guys in dorm beds coveting
each others suitcase bags left overnight
all sleeping open eyed
clutching zipper & strap
thinking off into Chelsea night
wonder at who carries a knife
and where the train for Brooklyn leaves


So I'm sitting
diagonally behind
this Asian (Korean) woman
in crazy plastic wrapped head gear
samba music & smell of
hair salon everything is
white cept four chairs are red
and four are black,
the fans are shaking and spin
dir dir dum dum durm durm
and it's funny we're the only two here
she's got her head down in
black bag sirens going off
outside rushing by on New York
32nd Street & 5th Ave
I've got my book open
hiding this poem from her
'cause I'm embarrassed she might
think "This sulking stalking
behind me guy in gray shirt
is something else, writing about me,"
because I am
while I'm waiting for Felicia
Hollywood big eyelash extentions
and my books got tiny black font
I use an Office Depot Fine Pt. pen
black ink
I stole from USIP
to write

Sunday, June 5, 2011

told ya I wasn't done

$10 dollars look, hey
it ain't the 1950s
when you didn't even live
just wish ya had--
and Megabus rollin
where the Greyhound ruled
toward yellow mornings (turn your head)
where the sun folds up the Potomac
to Largo, the Metro affluent
chugs slow clug clug clug over
bridge (little guard towers)
miles away,

we stare back at ourselves over bathroom sink,
every wrinkle, every scar,
cry for the humanity I can't forget,
closing our eyes--

Saturday, June 4, 2011

First of the night

America runs on Dunkin'!®
buries me like a fool
looking for greater things
in our pasts, collective
waste water plants on East River
edges of Brooklyn
and the Hudson is cold 
even in winter like 
I wouldn't eat fish caught
at Coney Island
or New Jersey for that matter-
tattoos of orange-purple-white
on all our eternal faces 
undigested paintings

Friday, June 3, 2011

second night

Ice my knee at
30th and Madison
8th floor window 8 floors up
(old and worn out I'm--)
watching little black dog
in white apartment
how he plays so light,
how does he pay? to live so good, watches tv
on the couch-- Columbia campus sprinklers
to wash the sweat of day walking in New York,
little boy says "thank" you for his ball,
you gave it back to him, sounds so
Hell, bikinis for everyone in Central Park
the Night ain't getting any younger
just found morning and there are no
stars in Manhattan and bar full up with
old men puke on grates outside in alley ways
under apartment windows are brains that
think of life turn yellow, alive and
die, unconcerned

Thursday, June 2, 2011


While you slept I played with
your hair in the park
snuck a look down your shirt
touched your legs (as a joke)
you weren't awake,
thought up all these crazy thoughts things
to tell you, but you were out
I forgot them
sleep sleep under trees
where it's not so hot though hot (as away from them)
saw a guy hit in the head by Frisbee throw
worried you would be, (me protecting you)
there're no professionals out there,
brushed little pollen drops from
your clothes, you eyes closed
thinking what?
Dreaming what?

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

White Horse Tavern

Dull blue shingle corner bar America
1800s dreary Village kids forgotten
printed over history--
I'll take the cheapest beer, yah
Budweiser for $5?
dull eyed bartender
wipes black sweat band arm band
and I'm sure when you wrote it
with Jack dancing drunk
or fighting,
it wasn't a cheap trend,
So I had to, black pen imperfect font,
leave it 50-60 years


and ethereal white knights die in misty
ole New York