wayne william berninger

2011-08-30T13:27:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #20 (2011)

GUESS WHO I CUT IN TWO LAST NIGHT?

my best friend is to all-natural & naked as the day she was born as lead or mercury or cadmium is to super-genius & sight for sore eyes is to home-cooked meal as howling wind is to good music for sex & music to the ear is to deliquescence as codependent is to an embarrassment of witches & pickpocket is to fictional cave monster as graduation with honors is to larger than life deep sea creature & overflowing bathtub is to frantic whistling as benevolent rule is to rich farmland & corn-fed corporal is to the successful prosecution of arctic warfare as late night backrub is to the recharging of dead batteries & the setting of a kitchen match to dry paper is to tickertape parade as pay raise is to a night alone in the crow’s nest & rock the boat is to hair grease as overplayed power ballad is to lifeguard station & suntan lotion is to the impending argument as the old man’s car horn is to surprise company for dinner & spare the rod is to prison camp as good character & competitive nature is to seaworthy vessel & duty upon same

NOW I’M REALLY BLUSHING & WITH GOOD REASON

how was your trip to the ancient barber shop you ask / I did not get to ride in the little car I confess / much to my disappointment I add / but there was excitement enough when the shaky old man withdrew his straight razor from a drawer / I invite you to accompany me to the new supermarket in Red Hook / will it be an eye opening excursion you ask / I predict as follows / not only will your eyes be opened but no matter how widely you open them you will still not believe them / I’ll wear a sassy little tank top you say / did I mention that the supermarket has no air conditioning I ask / when I promise to punish myself for being so forward I say that I will hit myself with a brick / my brick collection testifies to my enthusiastic appetite for pain I say / In the car (safe & secure from all alarms) I quip as follows / the good thing about the gnashing of academic teeth is that once they have worn their teeth down all the way then they are defenseless & I can move in for the kill / upon arrival at the supermarket I am nervous / too scared to take you in my arms among the vegetables / or the canned goods / or the fantastic array of dairy products / or the bread

2011-08-30T13:23:00.001-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #19 (2010)

A WOMAN’S FACE IN EVERY WINDOW

no I think it’s perfectly possible to be both midwife & executioner. your cheaper kind of god may tell you otherwise but not me. you can demolish buildings all week & then lay brick over the weekend. right this way. do you know I find it absolutely impossible to sleep within earshot of this atonal fucking windmill. asphyxiates my genitals or something. I’m fully aware it’s only some kind of weird cerebral choreography. completely unreal but consequential enough. anyway here we are. this ship will take you farther than you want to go. she’s got it where it counts. my employer will see to your warp drive & you can be on your way & that’ll be my final transaction. I can’t wait to finish. or maybe it’d be enough to be Finnish. oh, what ecstasy! so long, debris, my old friend. highly adaptive yes but every episode is a repeat of the series finale. just one more remove. a bit further north perhaps. one always thinks the next village feels unprecedented. but it’s just one big circumnavigation, lemme tell ya!

LET THINE BREATHING BE MEASURED

& let thine cloven hoof tap out joyful messages in Morse code on the shining parquet floor of some magnificent new chamber behind three new locks. stretch out with thine feelings & know thou art divine. luminous. stretch out with thine ears. tall windows at long last. even a slightly more greedy king would find it more than slightly strange to hear you say you cannot feel the same foul wind upon your face as does he. things are looking up for you. we robots overheard the discussion you had in the cockpit & don’t worry. according to the database if there are two good looking young male characters then the one with the more rakish smile always gets the girl. statistical analysis indicates that together you & the princess will sire a mighty dynasty of paperback heroes. have thine daughter bind up her hair for running. thine firstborn son shalt thou name after the very same character whom readers have grown accustomed to think irredeemable. thine heart is to the leaping flame as farm blankets thick & warm are to ninety degrees in the barrow. and it’s going up to five hundred.

2009-11-23T09:43:00.000-05:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #18 (2009)

THE WATER STEADILY RISES UP TO MY CHIN & I SHUDDER

Every time we meet he launches right into the tale of the latest indie rock band to withdraw from society into some secret underground bunker. Can you fucking believe that? he always says, always with the same cadence & inflection. How sweet of you to ask! I always want to say but he never pauses to hear my answer so I always just shrug. Every time we meet we walk side by side but neither of us is ever really wherever we are. Like a hostess flitting about the room, opening curtains, fluffing up pillows, trying not to offend her own sensibilities. You quietly stand aside until she is no longer in your peripheral vision. Surely she says something or other at some point, but damned if you can ever remember what. If just one person would say something real, I swear I would immediately lose control of every bodily function. That’s my plan, anyway. The sun drags across the sky.

WE SHALL BE BRISK & PRODUCTIVE RATHER THAN RESENTFUL

This is a good find. Be quick my children & collect these colorful boxes of powdered gelatin mix. Don’t forget to peer under the shelving for strays. My biographer will need to employ several hungry research assistants to count the times I was so tipsy I shushed the alligator on my way up the stairs. I used to think I would become a celebrity. No more would I be any little man’s middleman. I longed to go astray & seek out opportunities to look a craftsperson in the eye in Nevada. At border after border I planned to flash the badge immemorial. Clattery would be the bookshelves nailed up inside my amphibious vehicle. I wanted to laugh to see the deep sea creatures scurry before me! Look at me now. First thing in the morning we will startle an impunity of cats.

2008-10-01T09:49:00.001-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #17

WE CAN’T AFFORD THAT PARTICULAR HUMAN TRAIT AT THIS PARTICULAR TIME

he took the crumpled piece of paper from her dirty hand / I could see that he slowly blinked at it & he winced / almost like it was hurting him to look at it / he seemed for a long time to consider what the scratchy writing & thin shaky line drawings might mean / what the marks on the paper symbolized about what he & his fellows had become / then he handed the paper back to her & he looked away & he whispered something / I could just make out what he said / I find these pictures revolting but whatever keeps them at a safe distance is fine by me / it might also discourage other survivors from approaching the perimeter / but that’s a chance we’ll have to take / they’re going to have to look out for themselves / she didn’t say anything / but he must have thought she was about to / he turned his head back around & he looked at her with that one good eye of his & he let out a long sigh & then he went back to his sewing / as if to say don’t go getting all bent out of shape / we can’t afford that particular human trait at this particular time

THERE’S WHAT WE WISH WAS TRUE & THERE’S THE TRUTH

go get one of the shiny ones & carry it / I want you to look on the verge of fire / & I want you to look it from far off / we need a whimpering mob at the gate bout like we need another run of fever in here / they just gone hafta go someplace else for help / it might seem cruel I know but we got enough of our own problems / yes sir we do / maybe it ain’t visible to others but it’s clear as day to me / ain’t no need to go asking for ourselves to get eat / so you tramp back & forth here like I told you / & hold that shiny barrel up where the sun can glint on it / anybody who sees our smoke we want them to see you holding that gun too / keep on walking / nobody friendly up here / you tramp till I tell you to stop that’s how long / I ain’t gone let you dern kids forget how you nearly got us all killed / come at me talking bout there’s a horse coming up the path can we keep him / bout had the gate opened before I had a chance to get a word out / can we keep him / horse but no rider I asked right away / told you all to get back away from the gate / it’s one of them using the horse for cover I said / sure as I was standing there that’s what it was / idea was he’d wait until the last minute to get up on the horse & scoot over the wall & open the gate / only then would the others come tearing down the hill / member how you children got all excited / never rode no horse not a one of you / well I shot through the horse & winged the two legged bastard sure enough hiding back of him / he stumbled out into the open / member his big strong looking arms / member that god-awful sound he took to making / member how I hollered right back at him / they didn’t pick you cause of your beautiful singing voice did they Stinky

EVEN THE MOUNTAINS HAVE BEEN STOLEN FROM US

since you know about next to nothing on monsters I been assigned to look after you / & first thing I’ll say is that going out dressed like a dam toy soldier’s just gone get you killed / plenty of civilian garments serve you just as well as them dam fatigues / & they ain’t gone draw nearly as much attention neither / there’s more than one kind of wild man out in the world / now you remember that / true the less dangerous variety might not exactly try to eat your brains / but he’ll dam sure leave you dead / & for goodness sake carry your weapon up underneath your poncho like this here / that way can’t nobody see it & it won’t glint in the sun / otherwise what’s the use in even having the dam thing / might as well carry a big old sign that says here I am big & juicy come & get me boys / you get that through your thick skull right now / understand / they ain’t sending you cause you’re anywhere near as smart as you think you are / they’re only sending you cause you’re strong & fast / & cause you gone hafta learn some time / if you’re gone stay alive you’re gone have to know what it’s really like out there / outside the fence / look here / this ain’t no leisure vacation / & it dam sure ain’t no goddam video game / you keep your head down / but you keep your eyes open hear / you got a job to do & you got people to come back to / I ain’t getting on to you / I’m just saying / no sightseeing is all I mean / trust me / that old blue sky looks a hell of a lot better when you’re looking at it from back behind some razor wire / safe & secure from all alarms like it says / now go on & get out of here real quiet like & run their dam errand for’em / soon as you get back I’ll sit & look up at the sky with you as long as you want

DEAR SIR SURELY YOU HAVE LAID UP KINGLY STORES

doubtless you marvel daily at the success of your riverside fiefdom / certainly you have hoarded much of value / items accepted as payment from other rational men needing ferry service / I’m sure you’re a big success / yes I’m being a little sarcastic / I suppose you have heard that our war raged on / strength against very real strength / just as it always has & always will / of course there have been no media reports to keep you thusly informed / but there are always the screams / by now you know that your parting words to us were in error / by now you realize that the words you spoke as you left the camp were gravely mistaken / we were not fools to lock ourselves in like cattle / & things did not get better outside the fences / our memory of your parting words did not make us wish we had gone with you / we did not envy you / I’m sure you know by now what I mean / in fact I believe you knew the truth even then / even as you herded your woman & daughter into the hills / with your eyes bright / your greedy heart intent on making dreams of kingship come true / but you can’t have found your own argument persuasive / when you swore they would run out of steam if we just waited them out / if we just gave mother nature a little more time/ when you promised your wife you would always be able to stay one step ahead / outsmart them / they were just dumb beasts / unable to get any better at killing than they already were / dear sir / they learned to grin & shake hands / to carry on conversations / just as the old woman said they would before you ruled against her & locked her in the box / I suppose you know we let her out just as soon as your three heads disappeared over the horizon / the old woman said don’t hand over your lives to just any smiling face that appears at the gate / she warned us if you don’t play it safe one day you’ll look up & there they’ll be / setting up shop in the market at dawn / if you don’t play it safe / we followed her instructions / clouds blew by & blew by / I don’t know how many but there were lots & lots of clouds / the old woman told us a castle doesn’t just build itself / the rule of law / democracy / & justice / motels with clean towels / she told us all these things come only from years of hard work / she said if we just worked hard enough we might have a chance / for a while it seemed possible / we built up the residential quarter / wrestled some vegetables from the dirt / collected rainwater / reinforced the fence / a lot of that / & all along there they were / milling around just beyond the fence / lords of the countryside / smiling & calmly explaining why we ought to just let them in / they could help us / I’m leaving this note here in case you ever come back / so you know not to stay / it’s not safe / if you’re reading this you know they got in / or somebody got stupid & let them in / if you have come back I guess it means your plan didn’t work out either / dear sir / sorry about that / I really am / but don’t feel too bad / the old woman was wrong too / motels / she must have been lying about the towels

2008-05-19T15:39:00.006-04:00

from the chapbook manuscript A Guide to Interesting Vacations

HOW TO GET TO A SECRET MONASTERY IN THE CENTER OF FLATBUSH AVENUE

Emerge from the subway blinking in Brooklyn
at Lawrence and Willoughby, a stop early
to learn a new landscape and find everyone
making their way over icy sidewalks. Slow

motion. Sight along the skyline to
get your bearings, confused yet
exhilarated by the spin

of bewilderment. Locate the nearest coffee
store. Pick your way past a book shop, two
fish markets, the check cashing place, and deli
after deli toward Flatbush Avenue, strangely

silent, the traffic usually pours
over the Manhattan Bridge this time of day.
Clutch your cup and set out
across the Avenue, step by precarious

step, mindful of the ice. Later, find yourself still
in the middle of the road, oblivious to the
cars, bent at the waist, one foot poised in the air,
and realize it doesn't matter where

you place it down again.

HOW TO GET TO A RESTAURANT THAT SERVES NOTHING

Invite your best old friend to come from Chicago
to spend a week with you at your home in Brooklyn.
Promise not to waste your visit
arguing this time.

You’ll have to work a couple of days, but
you can be back by one. He’ll have some time
to get to know the neighborhood, explore
the city, memorize a different subway
system for a change.

Reminisce about the good old days, debating
inconsequentials with white-heat
intensity. Wake up one morning and ask

where he’d like to go for breakfast.
When he suggests a quick bite at the
restaurant on the corner (he went there yesterday
and it was just fine), argue vehemently.

For the next three hours,
stomp up and down Seventh Avenue and
gesticulate wildly at each other,
you insisting that one should
always try new things, he
that it’s just
eggs and coffee.

HOW TO GET TO GRACELAND

Go to a yard sale in Hoboken
and buy an old 8-track tape

player from an elderly Italian
couple who do everything together

like get down on their knees
on the sidewalk in front of their
house and fix the cracks
in the cement. Maybe

they’ll throw in
Elvis’s greatest hits and send you
on your way.

HOW TO GET TO A SECRET MONASTERY IN HOBOKEN

Wake up before anyone else
and head toward the Hudson.

Not even day yet,
buy the first paper off the stack,
and the first cup of coffee from
the first pot at City Hall Deli.

Hide your complete surprise when
they charge you only 75 cents
for a whole cup.

Shake the cup before you open it,
mixing in the sugar and the milk.

Taste it
under a streetlight you can still
hear
hum it’s so early.

HOW TO GET TO A SECRET MONASTERY IN CHICAGO

Wander the supermarket and marvel for hours.

Engage in conversation with the customer
ahead of you in the checkout line. "You’re

not going to use that
condensed milk in that
macaroni and cheese, are you?"

She will answer "no, this is evaporated milk"

and the store will vanish.

HOW TO GET TO YOUR VERY OWN FARM FROM NEW YORK CITY

Carefully photograph those paintings of chickens
all over the sidewalks of Greenwich Village.

Use these photos as models and paint similar
chickens on your country mailbox. Flightless

yellow blue and red
birds to welcome your mailman.

Bright enamel chickens will soon quietly
scratch and peck out at the end
of your new dirt driveway.

(See an earlier version of this last one here.)

2007-09-01T14:59:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #16

AND OVER HERE IS OUR DEN OF INIQUITY

I will refrain from asking Rachel to regale the dinner guests with her knowledge of who wrote The Wealth of Nations. I shall never admonish Diane to defy violent interrogators by spitting in their faces. I am not about to warn Rebecca to look both ways before crossing the street, and I have no plans at all to caution her about running in front of hurtling trucks. I am not opposed in theory to using binoculars or email monitoring software but I will not use them to watch every move made by Nancy . I will never require Jessica to punctuate her studying with breaks for death metal and bluegrass. I am not encouraging Linda to follow her instincts and fall on her face. I am not helping Christina choose between two of anything. I am not reminding Martha to drive safely and steer clear of trees. I am unlikely to apologize for pushing Angela too hard. I am not standing at the workbench to help Ellen build a birdhouse. I will never dissuade Meg from shuttling between two buildings or between two rooms within a single building. Those carpenters are not allowing Erika to write behind the post office. I think it’s an excellent idea, but Erika doesn’t concern me. I won't tell Vanessa that she should dance whenever she has the chance. Lucy won’t hear me urging her to get dirt in her library books. This is not a rebel poem, so you won’t hear me ranting that Samantha is not allowed to name the dog Che Guevara. I don’t care what Samantha does. If she wants to embarrass the dog, that’s her business.

NOW FEAST YOUR EYES ON OUR SUN-ADDLED LEADER

I live up in the hills and no longer have any knowledge of valley or palace events, but I remember enough of the old ways to admonish Katherine to hold her tongue and never to speak or even spell her name in the presence of strangers. I reinforce this admonition every chance I get. I have certainly never persuaded anyone to live below sea level. Nobody ever listens to me anyway. They say I am a bitter old man, a moral outsider with no allies. I have become nearly translucent and I have thin edges and I am brittle and poor and indistinct but I am still alive. I do not importune Jessica to study hard so she can get a job at some company. I have never insisted that Jessica get any kind of job at all, and I am unprepared, unwilling, and unlikely to apologize. The telegraph reports that the search party found the flight recorder but it was beyond repair. No Jane of mine was going to become a tight wire ballerina. I think she would have made a far better terrestrial physician, and if she had gotten the chance to choose such a profession, I might even have overlooked the occasional cigar, but hindsight is useless. I'm no longer an armchair general. I hoist the bug-out bag just like all the others. What I would ask you to face I will face with you. I always say good morning to the charming dirigible pilot. We might need her services when the undead hordes appear on the horizon. What the drunk janitor notices may be less distinct than what you notice but you would do well to remember that it is similarly sized and that it lumbers no more endearingly for all your advanced degrees. Even Principal Skinner, no slouch when it comes to being ill-prepared, orders Groundskeeper Willie not to eat outdoors anymore. Our Willie isn't a scientist, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he can recognize a sign when he is bashed in the head with it, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as the plumber spends money he doesn’t have—as if the ones and zeros won’t be there tomorrow. So Willie skips dinner for a few weeks so he can keep a few extra mags preloaded. The bus driver has a salty tongue, but she knows her way around the bad part of town, so we put her up and win her over. When even thieves take to studying maps of the lesser traveled neighborhoods, you know the smell of fish is in the air, at least for those fortunate enough to have the right kind of nose. The clock sounds different when time is running out. Why else would I.T. spend six hours installing solar powered backup units? You say you disapprove of violence? Talk to me in ten months, if you’re still alive. Alfred's niece always hated physical exercise but she is more than happy to run the perimeter now, on the lookout for breaches or attempted breaches in progress. She says she wants to stay in shape, just in case she ever has to run for real. The librarians have been assigned to read the children their bedtime stories, but they know they are really guards. They miss studying among the trees, but the forest is no longer friendly. We found that out the hard way. Who would have thought it possible to do without politicians or news announcers? I persuade Miss Johnson and everyone else to dance every other Saturday evening so they remember what it means to be human. Our carpenter is a legend of sorts, the recipient of the last piece of mail. The plumbers invite Erika to sing the old songs at every opportunity. Nobody wants to waste the batteries spinning disks, not when Erika has such a lovely voice. Luke sits and watches her mouth move but we all know he is thinking of other summers when there was still swimming.

JUST BETWEEN Y'ALL & ME

Each of us is mere flesh it is true but it is human flesh don’t forget & it sails aboard the sturdiest of sturdy vessels though upon the deepest darkest sea. It is written that too little exertion makes the monkey weak & the machine too strong. Indeed you shall find that every monkey grows up & in every single instance no exceptions pleasure goes before the plunge & plummet. If you squint you can make out our destination in the yellow distance where I assure you a very real horizon flickers & will fade into nothing unless we chase it down & bring it to heel. This horizon is fashioned not from bricks & big guns but from soil & firewood. Come sail away & don’t fear the reaper or any pirate. Despite his reputedly cold & bitter heart he will gladly accept a branch of wine-dark leaves or a lone silver brooch & leave us with our health to plow under however many miles of ocean remain before we again dance in firelight & rest a well-earned rest. Neither bank nor blade nor sneeze will darken the corners of this ocean. Plug away my dear without murmur or complaint for that is the true cut of your jib & thou shalt not deviate from the pattern of heaven or you will drop like so many flies that have flown and fallen before you. Ignore the wisdom of the ages & spit in the wind but remember that not all ritual is evil nor is it necessarily red. To catch & kill fish is no crime in sight of so many outstretched plates.

MAKE YOUR PLATE INVISIBLE--DON'T JUST LICK IT CLEAN

Cartoon characters and comic book characters are the freest of free spirits & they are the most uninhibited of uninhibited sprites & they allow themselves to be tickled silly & they allow themselves to be carried right away by their many infatuations. Each and every one of them routinely abandons this or that assigned role & hurtles toward the street corner & then on toward the horizon with abandon & without a bandwagon in sight. Nobody ever caught rabies—or any other disease, illness, or ailment—from the highway, or from a photograph of the highway, no matter how high the image resolution or heavy-handed the framing. The armored truck is sublimely cold to ride in come wintertime & after just a few hours, already the driver can detect the presence of only one of his testicles, but he knows full well that one can bribe Jesus neither at dawn nor any other time of day or night. The biologist’s claim is implausible—that he walked the stream line & found sugar but no spiders. It has never been known to happen that way. My sweet darling is another name for desert oasis & her fabled ability to quench the most powerful thirst inspires endless mirth & minstrelsy (summertime, fire-hydrant). Superman drops by out of friendship & loyalty & he snoops around & identifies beneficial beverages for the faithful. The fishmonger arrives & he rejuvenates the crowd’s collective ding-a-ling. The neighborhood curmudgeon rattles his saber at the water worshipers. Throngs revolve & lunge & visit multiple aggressions upon the eternal busybody. Jack growls in the gravel where he has been since he fell. Oh, Lord, stretch forth your protective arm & let your light shine soft upon the places where Styx & Journey serenade decrepit lovers.

2006-09-01T14:57:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #15

MAYBE THURSDAY SHE CAN SLEEP

My sweet little Victoria is an electric doorbell & she loads up on bagels. My lovely Victoria is a fantastic portal (from here to there) & she loads up on Batman. My fascinating Victoria is efficient & she loads up on oven timers & she paraphrases Little Boy & Fat Man with every move she makes & she knows it. My mysterious Victoria is an alchemist & when she plays billiards, it’s on stilts & she’s queen of the night & she don’t take no lip. My sexy Victoria is a carnival barker & she loads up on castor oil for what ails me. My sweet Victoria cultivates a fine garden & she can read my mind & she loads up on bootleg whiskey. My smirking Victoria isn’t afraid to put in her two cents on the topic of professional vacuuming & she holds a mean grudge (so look out!) & she do like her waterbeds. My sweet Victoria is a badass & she plays guitar in a rock & roll band & every Halloween she puts together the sexiest witch costume you’ve ever seen. My eccentric Victoria is the world’s most fabulous gymnast & she is better than you in every way & every night she consumes vast quantities of spiced ham & she churns out poems that change the world & she knows it.

HERE THERE BE DREAMS OF MONSTERS

At this time, the poem will tell of my eating toast under the watchful eyes of Penelope (dog) & Huckleberry (dog). Now comes the section about my putting off the required bundling of metal & plastic recyclables. Such a beginning to a poem (somewhat understandably) makes you squint your eyes & shift your weight & consider moving on to something else—but you decide to give it a little longer. Then, as if sensing your restlessness, the poem offers some excellent financial advice & fixes you a brilliant cup of coffee & makes you forget all about your troubles & suspicions. Perhaps it won’t be a total waste of time & money to read a little more. Oh, here’s the obligatory political section! Unfashionably right-wing, I’m afraid, so keep your fingers & toes safely inside the vehicle at all times. Then there’s this fabulous stuff about the history of fish & here’s some delightful onomatopoeia—which makes you fall in love again with the idea of me. As might have been expected, the appearance of the word “hearth” makes you get up & walk out but then you come back in & apologize. Kind of puts a damper on things, if you want to know the truth. Stanley (three-legged cat) follows me into the bathroom & jumps up & drinks out of the sink. I need to get a Crock Pot.

SEX IS ONLY DIRTY IF YOU DO IT RIGHT SAID THE PIRATE

The old gardener grows tired of treading water more quickly than he used to. It’s much worse than being made to dance for two hours. At the end of the day, he’s happy for the jumping to be over as well. When you mention jogging down by the sea, he says I ain’t lost a thing down by the sea. All he knows is he gets up and drives to work every day. Maybe he wouldn’t even mind the jumping so much if he got a steak afterwards. His daughter Sarah shouts at his grandson, who appears to have avoided studying for the last nine weeks. Don’t them fool teachers notice when you go missing for days at the time? The old man pretends to listen to her & he nods his head but he’s really watching the TV & he’s wondering whether news announcers dislike their jumping as much as he dislikes his. Sarah informs him that his little niece won’t stop dropping things in the well, but he can’t think of too much to say. What good would it do? The pilots seem to enjoy jogging. He used to love dancing & when Suzanne was alive, he liked skiing among the trees. He picks up his fork & tries some flattery: Don't you practice cooking nicely? He used to like to eat at home. Now he somehow regrets walking so carefully & running so carelessly.

2005-09-01T14:56:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #14

WITH PRECISION & GRACE

you incapacitate me extinguish me exterminate me
you massacre me you match point me & you point-blank me
you hospitalize me up one side & down the other

you circus the surface you besiege me & you bestow effort
you stun me wobble me shatter me shudder me
you kick up your heels you irradiate me & you redeem me

you conduct electricity you electrify me & you enervate me
calculating you caller ID me & you Calamity Jane me
you sink my battleship & you sink my kitchen sink

an internal combustion engine you cultivate me
adamantine you liquefy me & you captivate me
you scrutinize me cannibalize me capsize me

you rigmarole me you run me round & you rip me off
my heart in your mouth you thwack me & you assail me
none of the above you shaggy-dog story me

you psychoanalyze me you chew me up & you spin me
right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round
you pedal me to the metal & you herd me you heard me

you note the absence of the stars & you starve me
you shake me you spear me you dirty word me & you mutate me
mercenary you submerge me you subdue me & you subjugate me

you envelop me you enlighten me & you set me free
you mistranslate me you tailgate me & you tear me in two
you dislocate me & you hit me in the head with bricks

your heart beats in time & it beats just in time with mine
you break me you break into me & out of control you careen
you sustain me & you scream-door slam me to smithereens

you shout me out you shout me down & you shut me down
you shout it out & you shout it shout it shout it out loud
you let the music let the music let the music do the talking

you checkmate me coriander me commandeer me
you center me you cordwood me & you concentrate my tension
you transfix me you fade away & you shove is shove & not fade away

you elbow me in the eye you defile me & you define me
you take me to the river & you drop me in the water
you let me go you let me grow & you make me glow

you Venus flytrap me you capture me & you enrapture me
spastic surgeon you heal thyself & you cure me & you mend me
you burlesque me statuesque me floor me befriend me

you mastermind me you masticate me & you spit me out
you puncture & pierce me & you slaughter & butcher me
you discombobulate me mystify me demystify me

murmuring you nurture me you risk me & you rescue me
you break-one-nine me you play me & you Stradivarius me
Encyclopedia Brown you stare me down & you grind me down

you know what it means to work hard on machines & you take me up
you take me up to the higher ground you lift me up & you fall with me
you befuddle me you mud puddle me but you see right through me

luscious you astonish me you admonish me & you diminish me
taxidermist you prepare you preserve & you peddle my pelt
amethyst you razzle-dazzle me & you rattlesnake me

old you resist anything better than my own diversity &
you breathe the air and leave plenty for me & you stick me up
you intoxicate me you inebriate me & you turn me inside-out

you dry me up in knots & you tangle me up in blue
you criminalize me you compartmentalize me & you chastise
. . . telling me no lies. . . knocking me out with those American thighs

you magnify me magnetize me maximize me mangle me
you exsanguinate me sanctify me sanitize me singe me
you devastate me diatribe me harangue me hang me

you cover your tracks you turn your back & you glow blue
you persuade me you wade into me & you throw me for a loop
demure saboteur you demur & you mercy mercy me oh my

you skeleton key me & you absolutely sweet Marie me
you synchronize me you deep fry me & you electrify me
you down & out me & you reasonably doubt me

you nurse me into sickness & you nurse me back to health
you objectify me you display me & you need me by the Loews
you make me laugh & you make me half laugh

2004-09-01T14:53:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #13

IT ISN'T ENTIRELY CLEAR TO ME

It isn't entirely clear to me
that you are correct that
flirtation doesn't involve some
degree of embarrasment or
that it is too much to expect
people to stay to the right
on the stairs or that teachers
should adopt the persona of
helper, but it is precisely
because of these things that

our evening passed so pleasantly,
the food so tasty, the cup
passed round the table
with such relish

THERE IS NO WAY TO PREDICT

There is no way to predict
what will happen or what you
will feel when you take up
your pallet and depart from this
place, the gum washed from
your eyes by the kindness of
the strangest of strangers. Or
perhaps what I mean to say
is that one must always be
on the lookout for opportunities

in this world, opportunities to get
up, get out, and go to town.

THE BOWLS HAVE ALL BEEN TOPPED OFF

The bowls have all been
topped off for the night,
the windows opened wide
to the eventual quiet,
memories of our meal
together filed away in poems
for safekeeping. The little
animals are stretched out on
the cool tiles for a long
August nap, and it is

midnight and all is well
on 17th Street in Brooklyn.

IN THE EVENT OF AN ACTUAL EMERGENCY

In the event of an actual
emergency, I would instruct
you where to tune in your
area for the latest information
about the impending crisis,
connected at the hip by the
heartstrings as we are,
but as it is, I can only
wait patiently by the corner,
reluctantly leaning on the telephone

pole from the past, and helplessly
watch as you make your way
towards me, past the shoe store
and right into my morning.

2003-09-01T14:51:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #12

THE SCIMITAR OF EXCELLENCE

It’s November and I drive the car home from the supermarket and park it with the windows down to let in the cold and I leave the engine running so I can catch the end of the hymn coming from the one scratchy speaker in the dashboard. I still remember how touched I was when Lewis reminded me to put air in the tires (they seem to like air he said) and to warm up the engine before putting it in gear on cold winter mornings. I think of you alone upstairs and of the hour. I even look up at our windows (dramatically). I reach out my hand and almost turn off the radio and carry up the groceries (fresh vegetables, pasta, and ice cream) so I can make a fantastic meal to fortify you as you study for your biochem mid-term. I almost turn off the radio and come upstairs, but I can’t. It is not that the fumes have made me sluggish, or that the door is stuck again, or even that the radio knob is missing. It’s just that Iris Dement’s voice rings out so tenderly in the Brooklyn night and brings me back so suddenly to certain Sunday mornings in my grandmother’s kitchen over on Turner Avenue, the two of us watching church on TV. For some reason the image that sticks with me most is not Grandma’s face reflected in the sides of the toaster, or the matching suits of the gospel singers, or the inevitable dog begging for bread outside the sliding glass door, but the Sunbeam girl, the butter on her toast so very yellow, her eyes radiating such intense bread enjoyment. The song ends and I go upstairs and cook the food and we eat it in comfortable silence and it is good. I told you I was going to write a poem about the car and this is it. Later, waiting for the tow truck together, I will regale you with tales for hours and hours and I will tell you all sorts of very interesting things.

THE DOG KNOWS US

The dog knows us only by our
Indian names: Treat
Giver, Leash Holder, Tail
Treader, etc. We like
to talk about him as if he’s
a brute, less sophisticated than
we, with our compact disc
club memberships, video rental
cards, and expensive haircuts.
Fact is, he can see right

through us, as through clean glass
on a clear day, the wind at a
lull, the vegetation fresh
and fragrant.

SEE HOW HE SILENCED THEM

Every man knows I am your borough and every woman knows I am your Brooklyn and every little child knows I am your farmer’s market.

I have not yet been killed nor have I been turned into a Christmas cactus or any other household plant with or without beautiful red flowers.

I know others have said these same words to you before and I know that in their hands they carry olive branches and I know that in their hands they carry sublimity.

I am a different person now but I am still known by the same name.

I will give you a mass of stainless steel and you’ll see what kind of man I am.
I will join my hands together and be your mandible.
I will flex the muscles in my hands and become your jawbone with which you can slay as you please.

Let us leave this fool’s paradise.

Let us hold with wiser men and remember to carry olive branches in our handbaskets.

Your heart is in you and it is wild and I know it spoils for a fight but speak no word—good, bad or indifferent—though the storms are on the ocean and the heavens may cease to be.

The emperor of dirt goes forth beneath a pine bluff.
He cannot save himself. . . his ruin will find him there.

They counseled you to a bit of madness but their day will come just as our time will run out—and not a moment too soon.

2002-09-01T14:49:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #11

THE DEFINITION OF SHADE

Any sentence can be poetic.

The worst practice is to give too little water too often.

The water table is higher and the water is everywhere, even in the oranges.

The horizon is limited.

The land is so flat that there are hardly any places high enough to see more
than a mile or two.

But there are tides in the body.

I don’t really understand why you object to any of this.

Cut back plants left for winter interest.

Turn the soil and incorporate amendments.

Every independent clause is poetic.

The common name filbert may refer to the husk, a corruption of full beard.

Greens are up in some protected place, next to a wall with southern
exposure.

An apple with three mature seeds instead of eight or ten wasn’t fully
pollinated and won’t be as sweet as an apple that was.

You know you’ve kneaded the dough enough when it’s soft as a puppy’s
belly.

Then an hour’s complete rest before lunch.

Nature puts no particular premium on perfection.

When the right moment arrives, it performs its role flawlessly, which might
be nature’s definition of perfection and ought to be mine as well.

The language of the monks has proven mightily infectious.

Thirty minutes of using the sickle is enough to raise the sweat and clinging
dust in uncomfortable marriage.

I hate to toot my own horn, but it seems I have quite a green thumb.

I’ve only recently started cultivating this little tree and just look at it.

Small flowers are a sign of inadequate light or nutrition.

Don’t coddle the root balls.

Encourage roots to grow out, not around, to keep the plant from strangling.

The definition of shade: less than two hours of sun.

Sit in the shade and alphabetize all the items in the world.

The trouble with houseplants is that most of them are sold in dismal green
plastic pots.

Envy has been a reliable variety year after year, with excellent flavor.

Aphids are beginning to make their appearance on rose buds and the tender
new growth of many plants.

Extraordinary powers, including the capacity to “make children teachable,”
have been attributed to caladiums.

I tell myself it’s for research, but it’s really addiction.

What does one abandon or salvage in a life?

If you don’t have a dog, just get a fence.

Remembering the nightmare of the past few weeks, the girl shuddered, “it
was terrible.”

A truth is self-evident when you don’t need a tool to detect it.

We may walk our dogs or eat a sandwich in the same park every day.

The thing is, I need to find out what’s inside the package without actually
opening it.

Any sentence can be a poem.

I heard the news that there was peace in Jalalabad and I wanted to see what
Afghanistan looks like without fear on its face.

Any sentence can be in a poem.

I put my clothes in a bag and I went.

I have no words for my feelings.

This poem has been checked for sleeping children.

2001-09-01T14:48:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #10

A MOMENT'S ELATION

It is written that a normal brain puts more
weight on a small loss than a huge opportunity,
and there’s already been some mumbling.

Why risk a horrific collision just for a moment’s
elation? I’ll have you know, I manage to shower
every morning without stepping on the soap, but

by the afternoon I’m sprawled onstage in the middle
of some strange play, but my horoscope says fortune
will smile on me if I watch TV all weekend.

Can I think for myself
during commercials? I ask the audience.

Do something that goes against
everything you believe in, they whisper.

My normal brain wants to be as helpful as possible.

I devote all my attention to reading about the fire
just barely smoldering with dying embers, and
I shut out all sounds except sleet hitting the window.

The only letters I get when it’s raining say
I never want to see you again, and it’s difficult to know
what to do, if anything.

When we were kids, we amused ourselves. Sometimes
all it took was a stick. We didn’t need
expensive things, and every day was long.

There are a lot of things I choose not to tell you about.

LETTING CLARITY RING

I wish I could say what I mean.

Go back and underline faded passages,
reinscribe lines that resonate, copy the scenes into
the notebook exactly as they appear.

We have fish for lunch and you warn me
against the keeping of certain pacts.

Beggar weeds attach to the legs or tails of
dogs and are carried elsewhere to take root and grow,
the dogs none the wiser.

My companion tells me that if it’s up
to him, I will not fail, and it’s touching—

our faces in shadow, we crouch
between rows of vegetables, and there’s
a house of some sort nearby.

The spine is a metaphor for human character.

Without taking the time to find out anything about
my life, you turn your head to the side and think of
something vague to say in response to my question.

Offhand comments inevitably invite people
to respond: I can’t believe you put up this flag. There
should be limits to patriotism.

You can hear the violence down below, shattering
itself on the rough-hewn edge of America.

By the time this breath ends you
will have become another thing.

The making of lists is an evasion of living.

It is said that a culture’s first contact with
the alphabet drives it mad.

Work at three different tempos at once, or
come together in deep swing, filling up space, or
letting clarity ring.

A day spent tramping the woods and the shore and in
a little carpentry, a little food, a little wine, a board game,

from time to time the tension so thick you could swear it
was Thanksgiving, but maybe our friends think of us as
family now so it’s OK if we see them bicker.

The special china is for special people not special occasions.

The dogs, welcome guests,
knock over endless figurines and scare
the Filipino cat.

One of them has diarrhea on the floor upstairs but we
clean it up in secret and they’ll never know or
even suspect.

The famous poet is a cashier in the airport cafeteria
and he suggests that we give people very expensive
food but only ring up the cheap stuff.

He reads my poem and says show dailiness but
show it differently, and I accuse him of trying to
make me into a political poet.

I suspect that his new spectacles can see me
looking at his daughter during dinner.

There is no underwear section in this catalog, but wet
clothes snap on green line.

You can hear the violence down below, shattering
itself on the rocky shoreline.

I sit back and wait for someone to do something, and
a holy ghost and a half couldn’t wake me.

We will go see the mountains this summer and shift
the conversation back and forth the way we do.

This is the rough-hewn edge of
America, the domain of the artichoke.

It is good for a day to be finished, to finish it
yourself, to have had something to do with doing it right.

2000-09-01T14:46:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #9

THE UNDERSIDES OF PRAYER

There are times when gold
avails nought and this is such a time.

Just under the attic, the fourth floor
echoes with electric blues and bright
spring light floods through southern windows.

The garden stretches from window
to window, rambles from room
to room, plywood beds on sawhorse
supports. On wooden trellises,

purple beans complement the wine
undersides of prayer
plants bending supplicant toward the window.

Depending on latitude and winter’s severity,
forsythia grows into a fountain of gold.

So it is with quince in the spring, branches
full of fiery blossoms. The rest of the year,
just thorns in the yard.

There was a time when I had to walk
carefully through the orchard,
honeybees hovering around apple blossoms.

Plants started from seed can take decades to bloom.

When climbing roses are bare at the base, sow
a first planting of peas, radishes, spinach,
other cool weather vegetables and delicate herbs.

Alpine strawberry can be started in pots on a fire
escape. Pick one little pot to set on the table,
graze as you make your way through the newspaper.

This basil came with a spider no bigger
than a sesame seed, and she spun a web
among graceful green stems.

She spins a nice bold stripe from time
to time, but we don’t know what she means.

I walk the blonde boards all morning,
stopping occasionally
to glance sidelong, to listen

intently. I poke down into the soil just to get
my fingers dirty and sometimes tip a plant
out of its pot to admire a healthy cluster,
roots reaching out, a subterranean map of yearning.

As summer turns to fall, my pockets rattle
with chestnuts, acorns, and bits
of lichen from twigs I pick up
under magnificent trees. One by one

fragile flowers open like fantastic
moons above my lamp, only to close again when
I turn out the light after the evening news.

Beautyberry has a single season of splendor
in the autumn, but its summer flowers
are so tiny I have to squint to see them.

Put your hand out the window and feel
the cool, moist air.

I have it in mind
to try some tomatoes.

1999-09-01T14:43:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #8

SO TALL HER EYES WERE BROWN

called on her carpet to murmur my loving and
hide my human head in awe
hands pocketed you half-smile but
you don't know the half of it from six

last night to seven this morning
helping to juggle stupid overdose news we
laughed nervously and averted glances all
evening trying not to touch one another
or burn our hands this strange religion

of ours means reaching to brush but never quite
brushing eyelashes across an endless table and you

say the thing she tricked you on is
she would never ever kill herself man I mean
it always works out but even
though that's a certainty it's always
a surprise when it happens look

we communicate in a series of schemings and
honorably or not convoluted
politeness is taken quite literally but still
has to rhyme with the death of it

BOATHOUSE ROW, PHILADELPHIA

dear you, thanks for the card, the boathouse looks very comfortable, I am glad you have found a place to sleep at night, it is so important, you know, the way the electric

lights outline the roof and the windows and the eaves, and though it makes your new home stand out, visible against the dark background of the trees, upon that hunkered-down hill, it must keep you awake at night, listening

listening to the splash of the water, against the pilings, outside your window, planning what to say tomorrow about Romeo, wondering how to explain that it's possible to hate and love in the same body

AND THEN THE MOST NORMAL THING HAPPENED

One can imagine alternatives every step of the way

I think it would be better to die suddenly than an ounce at a time

Deals are struck with every wink of every eye at every table

I make an appointment and immediately regret it

The houseplants flutter on the windowsill

You hold me away from comfort

There are at the end of the day only intransitive verbs piled upon intransitive verbs—a list of things to do

I screen the call then call right back, pretending I just came in the door, knowing I'm quite transparent

We are kept awake, music filtering through the leaves outside our window

The cashier, a famous out-of-work poet, tells me I have confessions to make to myself

Friendship can be defined as a space with total sonority

Conversation opens up like a revolving door and we end up back where we started, in different light

1997-09-01T09:20:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #6 (1997)

UNTITLED

my my what a big mouth you have is a nice way to begin
this answer to you begin over & overture perhaps
there is a better way but for lack of it begin reading here:

my my what a big mouth you have it
is bigger than your stomach

mine eyes all aquiverink and I am concern-ed zat someone is slippink me caffienes

let's see: the memory of childhood is the closest thing I can find to an
oasis anywhere in the vicinity of my tender cactus, turnip

& you don't interpret your work very well I will, though it is frightening
to run the risks that arise when one is out of range of metaphor--ahem
& you don't interrupt, please
enunciate clearly when you tell me that, watch: rising intonation a
jutting hoot engraving a line in the air with my nose and deference to desert imagery

she likes flamingos but not palm trees and you are from Florida
so I try to tell myself that is why oh you don't like Florida so
I try to tell myself that is why you don't like the palm tree but
my nagging nags at me and wittily suggests you just don't like palms
or more specifically you just don't like what they suggest--water, water

everywhere, but not a drop

my my what a big mouth you, um, I have
to go now

I need music now for breath--phew

my tendency is offending me you?

I am running away from the command that
commands me to trivialize myself and I
go out to deposit money in the bank account and only narrowly escape
falling into the pit of eating the last bite of lunch oh
America your portions are sickening why oh why must I be
a tomb in lore who can tell

the arrangement of stanzas makes itself noticeable and soon the devil's
dictionary erupts into presence instead of hanging in the backstage area

basically I'm wondering whose yes was tentative or if I suggested there was a sign
a semiotics of road signs in a landscape without roads carve them yourself

hmmm bunny cow sniffing dog

animals constitute an inimitable section of this pie neither can they be described nor
can they be fully appreciated without climbing inside their brains for a look

hmmm you make face so I am sorry

this apology thing is starting to get on to grate on ones nerves and he's wondering
how to figure out where that shit came from without repeating the same old same old
mechanisms

creak

I never noticed before that you can't see through flame but you can't--go on try--I dare ya

DAY IN DAY OUT, IS YOUR
HAIR OK DOES YOUR SHIRT MATCH
MY EYES IN THE FUTURE

that squirrel there is a
symbol of the inability
of grand institutions to
do much of anything about
anything

--grey-black flash--

I offer you a banana and the
day folds in on itself
in a sign of completeness
is only only natural

the authors with their cars can
never change my mind
about this:

the shadow of the sky slips
on over leaving
us behind

I am reminded to keep staring
intently focusing
digging out pieces

the night is broken the beer
is locked away in this
little town on the edge
of everywhere

glimpse him hiding behind that
bombed-out truck
likcing his lips and
motioning towards us
a tour guide here in
the not so famous
museum of the
inevitable

droning electronic technology
wanders down the hallway
to soothe a dying girl

the streetlight comes to let
there finally be life
buzz
and then
dies away to build
up more
momentum

getting going in the morning
early
early

do your exercises: pick out
the peaks out the window
one two three name them
never forget, you were there
once give them names, their
names, feel yr feet upon
yr continent

sitting there in yr chair
you still feel the rocks and leaves
under you like
a trampoline
in yr stomach at the end of the day

the notebooks are almost
all full now soon they'll
stop producing them and we'll
be stuck with only each other's
eyes to write upon

listen do you hear it

the breathing of the skin of the
friend sitting next to you

1996-09-01T09:35:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #5 (1996)

PERUSE THE MAP TOWARD

home so to speak of
seeking direction in
all the little lines and
circles and arrows point out
things that is their purpose
and to pierce my my
temple as I trace my
finger along the plexiglass
trying to locate yr street

on this fucking map but
seeing only yr teeth yr shoulder

WHAT ARE THE WAYS INFORMATION

is processed through the space lying
between your teeth and my
belly or through a space that
lies strung out like lights
blinking and connecting your ear
and my breathing? a question
whose answer might mark the
way to a place, a fence of
stone guarded by many dogs, a

place of blue and green edged
out into darkness by yr silhouette

AUTUMN IN BROOKLYN SPIRALS

in and out of me as I
finally admit it yes I am
the source and center of all
events in my field of
vision a deceitful word promise

fill it up to the first ding
but get out on the head
out to the highway radio
blaring to find the tank and
yr throat as empty as each
other yr voice escaped to become
my voice, uttering the line
that follows
this one

1995-09-01T09:22:00.000-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #4 (1995)

SHE EVEN EATS CUTE

(a collaboration with Rudy Baron)

we were sitting in the
park when you
punched me in the arm and
said girl with the dog the girl with the dog the
girl
with
the
dog later
looked up again and saw this brown bomber jacket
with an elbow told you
bomber and elbow bomber and elbow
ratio of perfect to
normal was low cut today
decided overalls should be the official required costume
that pierced tongues have something to do with tight
jeans and not snug which makes me lose my
train of thought and
drop a frisbee flipped
from four feet away
distracted by her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
I'm someone who never lights
their cigarettes even if the
bottoms of their shoes are impressive
they move their soccer-playing brother's
playfulness away from us
when they notice us noticing them
we stay where we were and are
not losing focus that tumbles like
tumblers with turned over hats
collecting change unlike the less abrasive
guitar guitar mandolin
harmonica nearby
kindly record the afternoon looks
in line at Burger King
where survivors of school night movies go
to sustain themselves when they forget how to
eat only when hungry simply
a purist thought whenever
food is available at a hot dog
stand with relish
away from peanut butter
jelly and telephone calls
ignored mid burger
and I like her hat in
the wind makes me misplace my stanza but
about your purist thought I have waited to say
that's why you look the way you look
and I'm fat which nods to our earlier
search for perfect anatomy
quite nicely
connects while you use a bath
room the purpose to hijack a
train (with a smoking car or a dining
car or a smoking dining car that keeps
me awake) of thought because
the only place to urinate
is a hospitable bathroom
unless the stall door is missing or she asks
what did you mean by
my hair wouldn't get in the way and
a missing ring is a good sign
through windows
Calvin Klein billboards in the same bikini underwear
for numerous days
the only thing worse than a folk singer
who thinks he has to sing exact studio versions
is an audience sings along and
makes facial expressions
just like the singer's
making my need for this morning's
sunglasses fade into
a need for hair away from
my eyes on a ponytail stands
up on her head when winds blow
her towards the sun a cowboy rides in
on pavement knowing where
to place things
fashionably
waiting for a comfortable place
to sing along
with a harmonica and a grammatically imperfect
sentence "she
even eats cute" so
we've agreed
that the knife should end it all after we stop spinning
that once you start you have to go
like the arms of a girlfriend every 20 minutes
you're off again
as the day descends
as I get more sweet on you the ratio gets higher
even if I can't tell I know
especially if the knees of her
jeans are ripped exposing
the hearts of her long long legs
legs like lips like surprises
next to the most beautiful pair of thigh
high stockings and hot
pants through a window
in a door beside a near accident
she and I truly
smile together

1995-01-01T16:24:00.004-05:00

from The World #50

LIKE RAINFALL

some things don't need the thought people give them

you mean if you found me here on the floor turning blue, you wouldn't give me mouth-to-mouth to save me?

I'm agreeable...I don't try to change the opinions of others

have you seen today's sports page listing the salaries of baseball players?

I usually try to dodge Mom's questions, yet now--I try to tell her my troubles

in a confrontational situation, come out swinging and ask questions later

it's hard to be a shepherd without any sheep

alphabet soup is alphabet soup, whaat do you mean which kind would I like?

after the wedding, every single item will be thrown out, eaten, or returned

why should a man think a bit less of himself and a bit more about others?

don't wait up--I've got a full day of the democratic process ahead of me

I never listen to morning people

what makes East Indian food taste spicy?

when you think about it, nothing is so ordinary as wanting to be remarkable

everybody tries to get away,but first they have to break eye contact

the animals have plenty of ideas

how would you rater your animal magnetism?

I hate when I'm talking and someone turns the conversation to himself

to keep from getting wet, it is best to carry an umbrella similar to this one

there's so much emotional tension around an event like this one...no ones life changes without all of our lives changing

this will be the kind of evening people of taste and culture hope will never end

it's time to face reality, my friends...we're not exactly rocket scientists

I wonder what people knew before there were magazine quizzes?

1994-09-01T09:32:00.001-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #3 (1994)

HOW TO GET TO THE COFFEE STORE ON A COLD SEEMINGLY LOVELESS DAY

I emerge from the subway
(Lawrence and Willoughby)
and find everyone planting trees in
the sidewalks of Brooklyn.

you're up to your chest in
a hole in the ground and I you're beautiful you
stun me for a moment
on my way to the coffee store

feigning interest in your ecological
escapade I peer into your
hole mesmerized by what color
was your hair? I only remember

skin peeking through holes in
the knees of
your long
johns and jeans.

HOW TO REACH ENLIGHTENMENT

wander a supermarket marvel
at the things
there exterior to any commerce

for hours
you're just seeing items move before you
now not

have a conversation with the customer
in line ahead of you at the checkout

say "you're not going to use that
condensed milk in that
macaroni and cheese, are you?"

she will answer, "no, this is evaporated milk" and
the store will vanish

CORRESPONDENCE

she told me to visit a hard
ware store and that candles
melt without burning.
I dreamed we were out in
the country or at least in
space, we were out
side in darkness I forget exactly where
but I was trying to fuck you
and you were afraid we'd
be seen and some other stuff
happened. it is strange how
we speak of the new edge & living
on the edge etc. while at the
same time to be marginal
ized is considered an undesirable
thing. I'll probably just take the
fucking money and run.
we can hug each other on couches.
we can ride in cars and eat
sandwiches and say that we all love
each other. we can sit on the
beach and make huge sand
penises and we have actually
and even though Natalie Merchant
has left 10,000 Maniacs the road
to the boardwalk is already paved
bottles break other bottles. skin
is removed to reveal other skin.
it is worth crying in front of ones
friends to change a tire in the rain
or to play billiards in a bar. nothing
can replace exposing your birth-
marked buttock to a newly-acquired
friend or staring in amused silence
at the lips of a brave man. there are
fruit flies that are not fruit flies
sometimes in our kitchen so we put
fruit in the refrigerator. I know they
are not fruit flies because they eat
other things too. I dreamed once of a
dormitory in great detail. I saw the
dimly-lit hallways, the narrow
stairwells and a grit to feel in sleep.
I wonder about imitations. who
would want someone who would put
up with it? who admires that? a clock
is a buzzing item. fat kid, what did
you say? playing deaf, I tell
them I just started playing and would
you like to come show me how. I felt
stupid yelling at little kids, like they'd send their
big brothers after me. kind of strange
after this morning's dream. line a reader
and other readers up and pop pop pow
eliminate them if they are their thoughts
their chance to voice give voice a chance
to make one sit and listen. to succeed at
wrapping, to succeed at bombing the view
from the window is a controlling action
but I enjoy reading a book after the type
face gets small and I sit on my feet but
what has happened to me then? the things
that are in the world can be counted in
sixes. it is possible to lift a wheelbarrow
and wheel it to New Hampshire. cyberspace
is where the bank keeps our money.
procrastination is an art-form. I wonder
if Clint Eastwood plays basketball. the
chemical acridness of chicken-flavored
egg noodles is salt. a backpack is faith in
a grocery store. I listen to the narrator
and my mind is twisted and I let it be
twisted. how twisted. rather than de
ciding how I think my characters, you
know the ones, the ones in the story
I'm reading, writing, should behave, I
let some voice I've never heard, never
will hear, tell me what to have them do.
a person who tells you they don't like
chicken and noodles has never climbed
a mountain. a cup of coffee is a shivering
sunset. cinnamon and mint are exterior
to a poem about a deafening creek and
some rocks. but it is white ceramic with
a cracked handle and is an inside-out
shaving mirror. a scorcher is a hot day.
but it is possible to withstand one with
a boyfriend to hug on a couch, which is
a sofa. the stars rush by now.
two cats touch each the other's cheek.
I believe what the voice tells me
whatever you say: puddles
of easily sloshed material, containers
behind the masks we call voices are
people with typewriters and contain us.
however, words leave gaps in sentences
they contain, and although you're the
reason for short silk dresses, it's quite
impossible to speak a straight line,
no matter how many books you've read,
because if you'll notice, as it's quite
necessary to do, that what is, is because
of what it isn't, then I'm sure you realize
that you can imagine quite a handful but
are as unable as anyone else to say so
or how. for example, if I'm making baked
beans and baking a potato, am I baking
beans and making a baked potato? you see
what I mean. writing about digitally-mediated
space is somewhat like listening to country
music. it is possible to send a Valentine to
someone you've never met just as it is possible
to open a window when it rains. newspaper
is like candy wrapping. what do clowns
carry in their pockets, anyway? giving in
to narration is no better than being herded
onto Space Mountain, a subway car or a voting
booth. a lep is a set of bended legs, a seat made
out of a bent person or a lick, feline or canine
in origin. the door to the living room is sealed
shut with the desire to live alone but
the television seeps under. four days from now
and it's back to the grind, my job as a half-clad
sweaty dancer on MTV. once you break a
twenty, it's gone: this is adjunct wisdom. pencils
also clink well when hurled at shiny tabletops.
tables are a business for some people.
the "keep on truckin'" guy is older
than everyone I know put together. he's been
truckin' for an awful long time now. sometimes he's
led other truckers behind him but more often
than not he trucks alone. I'm a trucker's wife.
a pledge is a political promise or a furniture
polish. it is possible both to tie a tuxedo shirt
around a chair for decoration or to tell a joke
to someone with whom you've never shared
a meal. how strange. a friend is someone whose
car you've ridden in and can be no one else. and
you cannot be friends with someone who has
no car unless you have one yourself. one of you
must have a car. think about it. however,
hopping across a road on which there are
cars, especially in the snow, can help to
build a friendship. if neither of us has a car,
we are doomed. we may as well be business
partners, or at the very least, enemies.
it would be possible to go and get a job lifting
stuff but I can't imagine myself being the
one to do such a thing. giving in to narration
is no better than being orange juice.

1994-01-01T16:06:00.000-05:00

from Triangle Shirtwaist Fire #1

The first of these is an earlier version of a poem that is part of the chapbook manuscript A Guide to Interesting Vacations.

(See the manuscript version here.)

TO GET TO A FARM FROM ANYWHERE IN NEW YORK CITY

carefully photograph those paintings
of chickens on the sidewalks of Greenwich Village

you can look at these photos and
paint similar chickens on your rural mailbox

(flightless yellow blue and red
birds to welcome yr mailman

to remind you of NY)

bright enamel chickens will soon quietly
scratch and peck out at the end
of your new dirt driveway

TO GET TO THE END OF A STORY

wave exasperated hands
exasperated circles waves
steamboat paddlewheels rushing along
a thing by its nature
takes a long time

1993-09-01T11:16:00.002-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #2 (1993)

COMMODIFICATION II

I don't know which is worse...that everyone has his price, or that the price is always so low

why bother? on the rare occasions when you know what the problem is, you usually make it worse and hurt yourself in the process

you're never going to get anywhere if you don't learn to deal with life head-on instead of putting off everything that's a tiny bit uncomfortable until later

I'd rather get up at the last minute and race around like a madwoman trying to get ready

I'm lonely and bored and worried and frustrated but it's not so bad when there's something good on

the only thing that should be hanging in your closet are those clothes which fit, and are clean, pressed, and ready to wear

know what I wish? that a fairy godmother would come and tell I could take the rest of the day off

you dealphabetized my CD collection! I'm afraid this relationship is over

so you want me to go back to being my old self...is that what you're saying

A HUSBAND AND WIFE HAVE

patented------, a lollipop
that they say can better
mimic the oral gratification
of a long stick of tobacco.
There's a kind of oral fix-
ation or compulsive kind of
behavior that smokers all
have in common--the need to
put something in and out of
their mouths and to repeat
this in a very ritualistic way,
said Gloria Mascarelli.

TWENTY-FOUR SEVEN TOP SHELF

In China, scholars were generally Confucianist in
social constraints, the two underlying filters of experience.

Clov, the only mobile one among them, keeps talking of
going to Bullier and seeing Delaunay from a distance, making a big
pre=preta, or unhappy ghost, referring to the preta-world.

He was a genial soul, very ready to talk and to answer any questions
devoted to removing our natural odors and replacing them with
much of the work of dramatists like Giradoux, Anouilh.

Ohmann's detransforming technique seems to provide some
attention to principles, it is part of growing up to accept this.

It fulfills their fantasy! Instead of biting she would prefer using
armed birds of prey, in spite of their vigour ous defense, and
and feet, spinning around, clapping her hands, knocking.

The author of the Confessions in a labor of representation which
Arnold recognizes, is to 'Hellenize' or cultivate the Philistine.

Writing is so simple, basic and austere. There are no fancy
not to be judged as a pure return to barbarism.

Or to put this another way, they believe that original
of congratulations from Mayor LaGuardia, and poetry, about which the
extracted from barley or grain" washes down plain food: there is no excess in their
and other analyses of sexism and to apply it in their own.

1993-02-01T12:34:00.000-05:00

Four Poems from Tamarind (February 1993)

AN EDUCATED PERSON KNOWS WHAT A CAT WANTS FOR DINNER
--after and for Robert Levine

An educated person knows what a cat wants for dinner.
An educated person knows what a cat wants for. Dinner.
An educated person knows what a cat wants. For dinner.
An educated person knows what a cat. Wants for dinner.
An educated person knows what a. Cat wants for dinner.
An educated person knows what. A cat wants for dinner.
An educated person knows. What a cat wants for dinner.
An educated person. Knows what a cat wants for dinner.
An educated. Person knows what a cat wants for dinner.
An. Educated person knows what a cat wants for dinner.
An educated person knows what a cat wants for dinner.

An educated person knows what a cat wants for.
An educated person knows what a cat wants.
An educated person knows what a cat.
An educated person knows what a.
An educated person knows what.
An educated person knows.
An educated person.
An educated.
An.

Dinner.
For dinner.
Wants for dinner.
Cat wants for dinner.
A cat wants for dinner.
What a cat wants for dinner.
Knows what a cat wants for dinner.
Person knows what a cat wants for dinner.
Educated person knows what a cat wants for dinner.
An educated person knows what a cat wants for dinner.

SECRET MEETING

a secret meeting is taking place in an abandoned tool shed in the woods near a suburban subdivision

"when I grow up to be a person..."

that's the biggest rubber ducky I've ever seen

bingo. I think I've located the exact center of attention

RESIDENCE

that's a familiar fragrance...and I don't think it's aftershave

it's raining again, so why don't you come inside and eat with us

young yuppies have taken over our quiet old alley

LAUGING ON THE INSIDE

as a child, I wasn't always interested in the same things as the other kids

some of the best times I've had fishing, the hook never hit the water

1993-01-01T16:23:00.003-05:00

from The World #48

TELL ME YOUR NAME THEN

Tell me your name then
tell me everyone else's name.

I know you're in the car I heard
you get in and I can hear you
breathing but I'm not going to
speak to you.

In the end, back at our
desks, the only words we care about are
the ones we can play with.

I know the cat doesn't
speak English but I had such
a bad day.

There is a point at which even
the most expensive potted plant
dies and is thrown away.

Eventually, you have to
pay the check and leave
the restaurant.

Everyone keeps old paperback books
they know they will
never read.

The stuffed animal bleeds styrofoam
from holes in its neck and feet
all over the carpet.

The train stops for five minutes between
stations and all the passengers pretend
to be absorbed
in thought.

One of us sleeps with his head
at the foot of the bed.

The photographer holds her
breath and photographs the quiet
streetlight.

I smile at
the baby in the stroller.

Each of us dreams of a day when
we're happy from beginning to end but
it's impossible.

An argument from the morning
gets spit out over the railing in
the evening.

Nothing's left after the sports
except the weather.

It is very important that
the medicine be taken on
a full stomach.

I let the phone ring until
it stops ringing.

Since it's your turn to do the dishes, I
let the pizza sauce on the good knife
harden to black but
then I break down and wash it
anyway.

Blow in the cat's face so she'll
swallow the medicine.

I tack the newspaper ads for hip
cultural events over my desk until
they've passed and I haven't
gone.

The problem with books is that
you get involved with them and
then they stop.

The cigarette ad shows a man
laughing and holding a sax-
ophone to a woman's mouth.

The cool song by the Bluebells that I
remember from years ago doesn't
sound as cool when I hear it on the radio.

There must be a way to use
the empty spaces near the ceiling.

I recently read a book that reminded
me that I'll never be able to read all
the books I want to read.

In NYC, you can use a payphone to pretend
you're placing a collect call but really
just leave a very short message for free.

She sleeps all day in the sun on
the windowsill then she comes down and
sleeps some more.

The record skips but we
just listen to it.

STEPPING ON THE SKY

shifting the body in the direction of the clouds

(to cause to become in the direction of the frozen water disk)

supposing that one directs profoundly passionate
affection, tender toward wandering
one is certain to undergo emotional distress

is it possible to have easy telling: describe the movement of your body
during the interval of light between last night
and now?

the middle portion is
the newest sexually sensitive
portion of the body

voluntarily presenting an
unusual fireplace, for
the season between

winter and summer

a limb that supports and moves the body the portion of the body
enclosed by its ribs

a fleshy part of fold forming a margin of the mouth
the terminal part of the leg, below the ankle joint

awake or out of bed after the usual time or hour:
ancient philosopher, nearly a boom for
lifting cargo--the states of being offensive
to morality or decency

the skull with eyes ears nose and brain belonging to you
and two saclike respiratory organs in your
thorax, and vigorous striving toward midday meal
in one body

1992-09-01T12:28:00.001-04:00

from Downtown Brooklyn #1 (1992)

SHOE LINES

This line, which relates the manner in which a smartly-dressed man leaves his brown apartment to begin his day, is less important than the following line, in which he begins to march hup-hup down the sidewalk.

This line, in its exposure of the brisk pace at which the man steps down the sidewalk toward his favorite morning watering hole, is less important than the previous line, with its concentration on how the man alights on his front steps in his fresh morning glory attire and breathes deep the AM chirp chirping, or the next line, because of the essential information it provides about the man's smoking habit.

This line, by only providing an everyday image of a man lighting his first outdoor cigarette of the morning, proves to be less important than that last line, which tells a lot about the man's cathedral way of holding his head as he makes his anxious anxious approach to a hot cup o' coffee and a chocolate chip bagel at his favorite coffeeshop, or the following line, in which the old boy's attention is involuntarily drawn to "a most indeedy strange flap flapping noise emanating from somewhere near my feet."

This line, which only details how a minor auditory sensation invades the man's inner ear and morning awareness, is far less important than the previous line, with its depiction of an image-conscious fellow performing a cigarette-lighting ritual the way he's seen it done in the pictures, or the upcoming soon-to-be-released line, which informs us of how the man realizes the flapping noise is the loose sole of 1/2 of his favorite pair of shoes applauding between his foot and the pavement.

This line, which tells how the man suddenly ceases striding and stares at his sorely offensive shoesole in sheer terrified embarrassment, is less important than the previous line, which provides a fundamental slice of information about the thirsty hombre by revealing how remarkably attuned he is to his sensory environment, or the following line which details the way the man turns and flees flapping back to his flat and out of the gaze of the public.

This line, by simply and succinctly describing the poor terrorstricken man running back to the solace of home, proves less important than the last line, a depiction of the man halting in the geometric center of the sidewalk to glance ashamedly at his less-than-tidy shoesole and accidentally drop his 1/4-finished cigarette, or the very next line, which shows him racing to his bedroom to abracadabra change into footwear more appropriate for walking among his neighbors.

Ths line, the only assignment for which is to reveal the rush rushed manner in which the man takes off his destroyed wingip loafers and replaces them with a new pair, is far less important than the information provided in that last line, where we see the horror in the running man's eyes and hear him repeating, "Omigod, omigod" to himself, or the next line, which delivers a crisp, clear image of the dude re-exiting his apartment, old damaged loafers in hand, and again taking off down the sidewalk.

This line, in telling only about a neatly-dressed but subdued man stepping out of his apartment building, carrying some shoes, and then simply walking down the sidewalk, proves much less important than the previous line, which shows how the man flings the now-useless shoes from his feet as if they are diseased and how he almost lovingly slides his tarsals and metatarsals into the shiny new pair, or the next line, which tells how the man drop drops the broken brogans into an orange public trash receptacle.

This line, the description of the simple not-much-thought-required act of letting go of some no-longer-valuable merchandise and letting it fall into a garbage basket, is less important to our reading of this story than the line before it, which carefully describes the upturned corners of the gentelman's lips and the cumulus cloud of relief that surrounds him like bummmblebees, or the line after it, which informs us, as literary sentences often do, that the character lights a new cigarette, with much attention to the wrinkling of the forehead and cupping of the palm.

This line, in providing the details of how the man sets fire to his second cig of the day, is much less important than the previous line, which tells the story of how he holds the ruined shoes over the can, thinks about the day he purchased them with a credit card, shrugs his tweedy shoulders, and releases the laces.

RIDE OF YOUR LIFE

fishing is the most boring sport in the world

big deal! who cares? I've seen hundreds of turtles, probably millions. who wants to see another dumb ol' turtle?

everytime I see the doctor, he finds something else wrong with me

look at that thing in the dirt. it must be a fossil

what would you say if I told you I was thinking of leaving here

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it

we've been sitting here for twenty minutes and not one thing has happened

you shouldn't take these things personally

I know, but I can't help it

will somebody please tell me what's going on

I should feel sad because a leaf fell

something's wrong with a country that trumpets the private lives of decent people from every tv in the land

dad said we'd know if mom was having a kid because she'd look like a hippopotamus with a gland problem

what kind of brave new feminist world is this, in which a woman is offended by a compliment

of course not, that is untrue and totally wrong

hold it men. we have to turn back

some people don't know what they're talking about, for crying out loud

if someone is reading a book about something, I guess you have to trust her

that's when mom creamed him with her pillow

I shoulda gouged tiffany's eyeballs out. she ruined everything

consider it a tribute to your loveliness, my dear, when the wives come looking for their husbands

I wish barbie was bigger so I could wear some of her nice clothes

I asked dad if mom was going to have a baby. he said not that he knew of

just once, I'd like to hear you say please

I don't want coffee. I want to go home

he's too cheap to buy an ant farm

I just don't get excited about it anymore

I need to have lunch with people who can cut their own meat

hey, that's milk, and you said you were empty, you stinking liar

look, I know you're hungry, but control yourself

from now on, just don't try to make meals exciting, okay

there's no reason a man should eat so much

everything looks so perfect, nobody wants to eat it

I hope I ate enough to get me through the night

after a full night's sleep, I'm still sleepy

a steaming hot cup of coffee in the morning and getting right to work

hang on! this is going to be the most exciting ride of your life

I don't know why locking the door makes me feel safe

keep a paper napkin in your pocket. if everyone does that, it'll save paper

there's nothing medical science can do until you get some insurance

we sigh a lot

well, why is everyone looking at me

you criticize my lifestyle more than you do theirs. it's not fair

you were right. that was so exciting I don't ever want to do it again

1992-06-01T16:23:00.003-04:00

from The World #45

RIDE OF YOUR LIFE

fishing is the most boring sport in the world

big deal! who cares? i've seen hundreds of turtles, probably millions, who wants to see another dumb ol' turtle?

everytime I visit the doctor, he finds something else wrong with me

look at that thing in the dirt. it must be a fossil

what would you say if I told you I was thinking of leaving here

i hate it, I hate it, I hate it

we've been sitting here for twenty minutes and not one thing has happened

you shouldn't take these things personally

i know, but I can't help it

will somebody please tell me what's going on

i should feel sad because a leaf fell

something's wrong with a country that trumpets the private lives of decent people from every tv in the land

dad said we'd know if mom was having a kid because she'd look like a hippopotamus with a gland problem

what kind of brave new feminist world is this, in which a woman is offended by a compliment

of course not, that is untrue and totally wrong

do i look totally helpless

hold it men. we have to turn back

some people don't know what they're talking about, for crying out loud

if someone is reading a book about something, i guess you have to trust her

that's when mom creamed him with her pillow

i shoulda gouged tiffany's eyeballs out. she ruined everything

consider it a tribute to your loveliness, my dear, when the wives come looking for their husbands

i wish barbie was bigger so i could wear some of her nice clothes

i asked dad if mom was going to have a baby. he said not that he knew of

just once, i'd like to hear you say please

i don't want coffee. i want to go home

he's too cheap to buy an ant farm

i just don't get excited about it anymore

i need to have lunch with people who can cut their own meat

hey, that's milk, and you said you were all empty, you stinking liar

look, i know you're hungry, but control yourself

from now on, just don't try to make meals exciting, okay

there's no reason a man should eat so much

everything looks so perfect, nobody wants to eat it

i hope i ate enough to get me through the night

after a full night's sleep, i'm still sleepy

a steaming hot cup of coffee in the morning and getting right to work

hang on! this is going to be the most exciting ride of your life

i don't know why locking the door makes me feel safe

keep a paper napkin in your pocket. if everyone does that, it'll save paper

there's nothing medical science can do until you get some insurance

we sigh a lot

well, why is everyone looking at me

you criticize my lifestyle more than you do theirs. it's not fair

you were right. that was so exciting i don't ever want to do it again

1992-04-01T12:53:00.000-05:00

One poem from Tamarind (April 1992)

For this poem, I photocopied a cigarette advertisement from the subway and then typed the poem directly onto the image.

Click pic to enlarge:

1992-02-01T16:21:00.003-05:00

from The World #43

ARGUMENTS ABOUT EATING

(taste buds)

1. Sweet

I feel like drinking a glass of Coke w/ chocolate chips in it even though I said earlier I wanted something w/ a low level of polysaccharides, being good. You say that's what you said: something really sweet: ("I mean, look at all that frosting!") I find myself explaining the body's mechanism for the breakdown of sugars & talking about fruit & an article in the Voice about restaurant table sugar packets, & I begin to feel a little intellectually pompous.

2. Salt

I'm wiping baked browned sodium-chloride crystals from the skin of one of my six potatoes. They stick there because of the layer of Crisco I applied last night w/ rubber gloves before I put them in the oven for an hour on 350 degrees. I'm thinking I don't want to eat that much of the stuff, being good. You say you don't understand: ("Why'd you stick it on there if you're only going to wash it down the drain?") I forget to hear you, however, because I'm looking at the small islands of dehydrated crystals clinging to the last potato, thinking about something I read years ago about people at the seashore getting their salt by letting pools of seawater evaporate, leaving the valuable mineral behind, sticking to a coconut shelf or a smooth concave shard of igneous glass.

3. Bitter

I have often been wrong, you may recall, in my denotative use of certain words, like my student who spoke of her variety of "perspective dates." Ordering and eating a great portion of a "loaf" of onion rings from Dallas BBQ at St. Mark's Place and 1st Ave. brought it all back. You say I'm wrong: ("It's not bitter, it's just greasy") & I go off comparing "consistency" & "taste" in my head. I remember a grandfather steak & upon chewing the rind again, in my head, I also remember the layer that formed on the roof of my mouth. Could only be removed, & then not well, by the hearty application of a ketchuped fingernail. That taste, & the occasional, accidental, bite into stray pecan shell (in otherwise perfect pies) make me think of charbroiled cowflesh & Southern deserts when I hear predictable discussions among estranged lovers.

4. Sour

I come up w/ an interesting line about "goosebumps on the inside of the body," specifically inside the face, the mouth. I'm puckering up inside-out. It's a sourfruit-induced implosion & my eyes are watering. You say I'm strange: (Who's gonna wanta reada poem about lemons?) There are bumps inside my cheeks from the juice (I have no idea about the body's mechanism for producing these) & I have various memories of times when I bit the insides of my cheeks or carefully chewed off such lemon-bumps or ignored Faith, at my old job, when she told me sucking lemons was bad: ("It'll eat all the enamel off your teeth")