I want to dance the
rainy Brooklyn sidewalks, lead the
bums and misfits into a choreographed
showtune of puddle splashin',
lightning lighting, thunder percussion --
spin off the walls and wail into
the lamp posts
Cliche crab apple Hollywood cream and more . . .
I'll tie his shoes and he'll spit
shine mine . . . then, an arm-and-
arm street-funk shuffle, by couples,
'cross the Brooklyn Bridge
-- small lighted
globes on girders are the only stars in
the galaxy of soft-shoe stutter-step
into Big Town . . .
Baby baby baby it's gonna be
a long night of kiss and squeeze --
straight to hell, and OH the
happy Persephone parade . . .
Blind folded, one by one -- tick-tock
cadence of moon tide clicks our
stiff limbs into clop clop
clop, one-by-one moan stride . . .
-- all hidden eyes blazin' with glow of
ocean --
rainy Brooklyn sidewalks, lead the
bums and misfits into a choreographed
showtune of puddle splashin',
lightning lighting, thunder percussion --
spin off the walls and wail into
the lamp posts
Cliche crab apple Hollywood cream and more . . .
I'll tie his shoes and he'll spit
shine mine . . . then, an arm-and-
arm street-funk shuffle, by couples,
'cross the Brooklyn Bridge
-- small lighted
globes on girders are the only stars in
the galaxy of soft-shoe stutter-step
into Big Town . . .
Baby baby baby it's gonna be
a long night of kiss and squeeze --
straight to hell, and OH the
happy Persephone parade . . .
Blind folded, one by one -- tick-tock
cadence of moon tide clicks our
stiff limbs into clop clop
clop, one-by-one moan stride . . .
-- all hidden eyes blazin' with glow of
ocean --
(Oh, each of us -- a drop in a
tidal wave . . . but we're comin' down,
baby, we're comin' down)
*sound of wave crashin' . . .
whatever the sound of ideas, people (water?), and
bloody hearts upon
pavement (stone hearts) sounds like*
*whatever that sounds like*
*whatever that sounds like*
There are three poets I love in the world, that make me think poetry is okay--and not only okay, but vital: Ginsberg. Neruda. And you.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely LOVE the rhythm and cadence of this poem. It just rolls off the tongue and sends you to another world. Love it!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rona, for your kind comment. That means a lot.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks, babe, for always reading and comenting. I get a kick out of what you get a kick out of in my writing.
Love. Love, love, love.
ReplyDeleteafter reading this a little further, I thought it was a song you were quoting, although I don't think you've ever done that on here, then I realized it really was you writing this. It's funky and I can so see you leading the bums in a dance -fun! It still seems like a funky song to me though :)holly
ReplyDeleteThis is my favorit poem of yours, so far.
ReplyDeleteIt has the otherworldy worble that I look for in all art. That place where imagination tweaks my perseption of beauty, what emerges I would have never dreamed.
I am happy as shit that you still write these things. They allow me to forgive my "insanity".
Thanks you thank you, brosef. Glad it rattled your primordial cord, sure as hell did mine!
ReplyDeleteAnother note, Nic: in stretching my brow among the literati, I lost my yawp. Welcome back!
ReplyDelete