Wednesday, November 18, 2015

secret selves

There was one of her
And one of me
And one of each of us
That you couldn't see.

Oh My God, look at us.
We're only the thought
that we're having
and the following actions

So the other of her
and the other of me?
We keep it that way
and it's better.

Friday, November 13, 2015

4D Goggles

4D Goggles

Today I went to the Bronx zoo with the girls and saw giraffes and monkeys. 

On the way there Sofia said, "Broccoli is Spanish for Brooklyn."

She also said Honeywell was her favorite street. I'd never heard of that street. Where'd you get Honeywell I asked her?

She didn't know. She just "made it up."

But when we got to the zoo we saw an actual Honeywell Street across from the park. 

Later I was telling this to Melissa Ivey. Then as I was telling her remembered that Melissa had earlier this afternoon said that she really loved honey, really loved a lot of it in her tea. She loves her honey well, I thought.

I explained my theory to her about the fourth dimension, the bending of all the angles of space together, all the corners of the cube matched up with the other corners. Kind of like putting the round peg in a square hole.

When I passed Honeywell St. the angles I caught a glimpse of the angles folding together. I didn't know why until catching that third angle, Mel's love of honey. Why was the 4th dimension showing its face. To impart some wisdom perhaps. Honey makes you well is the moral of that story.

Then when leaving the park I left the double stroller behind, packed up the girls and just left it there on the side of the road. When I called the zoo the manager said it was gone. Oh no! It felt terrible to lose the stroller and I knew Genevieve would not be happy either which added oomph to the gut punch.

I asked Melissa if she thought there was some reason I might have forgotten the stroller and she said maybe it went to a family that really needed it. Yes, of course! And this isn't even a stretch to imagine in that part of the Bronx.

I felt much better about losing it.

Afterward Mel and I went to see Ron Padgett read at St. Mark's in the Bowery. It was a fantastic reading. But even more fantastic was that afterward Arlo Quint gave me both a hard-back copy of Ron's Toujours l'amour AND The Collected Writing of Joe Brainard. I could hardly believe it. What generosity.

Melissa pointed out that maybe it was the universe giving me back a thank you note for use of the stroller.

Finally, after the reading, on the way back to Queens we met up with our girl Amma. Sweet as honey.

What a ruse!

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

all day sucker

Forest green to the world, so show him the love, her,
the way mom took our complaint and turned it into proof of faith,
more, and there was more, though not in service to more
but to proof of love, anodyne of dove.

Here we go deeper still, into automatica:

Forebear asymptotic arms asunder, argyle agate rocks, ornate articles of thunder. Formica is the fallback. Eerie table top knows it, times bilingual absurdity -table mesa-  and affluent articles, antagonistic sombreros in the succulent Peruvian forged and foremost the que to get into the best pho on the planet, the pho que, where the best dumpling is all that and dimsum. Don't stop the assiduous murder, that wrongful action, dying the last ember worth around the house, in and around the house, strangers come out at night and we feel them. Do, lean on the horn to puzzle the scorned vertebrate, ancillary, tertiary, fog hat ombudsman, free form, spelling frigate bird sorcery, feverish pitch darkness, brutal bestiary. Am buckle, unbuckle and soar fossily, fro on the Johnson, naked man at Berkeley, bring him home, a small hero, small's not a joke, a big hero, there, said for dignity, let alone Sophocles and Tamerlane, together at last in eternity, not eternity, they were the erasures of said such, as are we, erasures of eternity, like in that Banksy piece, the one that means so much to me alone, quoting Gladiator, legendizing Eternity, Australian outlaw, and mercenary of tabloid, venturing capital unsettled for abdication. Free Jim Henson. Free Robert Johnson. Eerie manbody. That's where my mind leaves you. That's the striking moment, while its hot. And I'm losing you, except not you, but everyone else. And it is, is it not, worth it, to save one to lose all of the rest? There is a sense in which that is the test.

2nd draft

Dive Deeper

Forest green of the world, to show him the love, her,
the way mom took our complaint and turned it into proof of faith,
more, and there was more, though not in service to more
but to proof of love, anodyne of the dove.

Here we go deeper still, into automatica:

Forebear asymptotic arms asunder, argyle agate, ornate articles of thunder. Formica is the fallback. Eerie table top knows it, times bilingual absurdity -table mesa-  and affluent articles, antagonistic sombreros in the succulent Peruvian forged and foremost the queue to get into the best pho on the planet, the pho queue, where the best dumpling is all that and dimsum. Don't stop the assiduous murder, that wrongful action, dying the last ember worth around the house, in and around the house, strangers come out at night and we feed them. Do, lean on the horn to puzzle the scorned vertebrate, ancillary, fog hat ombudsman, free form, spelling frigate bird sorcery, feverish pitch darkness, brutal bestiary. Am buckle, unbuckle and soar fossily, fro on the Johnson, naked man at Berkeley, bring him home, a small hero, small's not a joke, a big one, there, said for dignity. Sophocles and Tamerlane, together at last in eternity. Not eternity, they were the erasures of said such, as are we, erasures of eternity, like in that Banksy piece legendizing an Australian outlaw, and mercenary of tabloid, venturing capital into unsettled territory for abdication. Free Robert Johnson. That's where my mind leaves you. That's the striking moment, while its hot. And I'm losing someone, except not you, everyone else. And it is, is it not, worth it, to save one to lose all of the rest? There is a sense in which that is the test.