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Whendy keeps dancing like she doesn't have bones
while Nic films her from all angles. It's Wednesday
somewhere in the world, and the walls are quite blank
except for an oddly cast shadow.
Thursday is one of those Anything Can Happen days,
slow to push its way up through the morning cold.
We move heavy and our breath hangs with ghost words
imprisoned by cold air.
"Sometimes it's supposed to be lonely..." she says,
carrying her broken suitcase to the subway platform.
The train didn't come on time, and we're running late
behind the headlines of the day.
My wrists are still burning from bleeding in reverse.
"I'm tired of the city," I offer, untruthful. "I'm tired of
not sleeping and sliding away." She exhales clouds,
answering "Sleep is for the dead."
I wish sometimes I could pray. It seems to comfort
those who do it, fills them with something greater
than anything I can force into my lungs or veins.
I wish I could meet God, even,
ask him why we're so different, and yet, so the same
except some of us can exist without blood or sleeping,
and others can move like they have no bones.
| i revisited this one...almost forgot NY...and you just reminded me...|
watching out the fifth floor apartment window for my dad to be walking from the subway..i could see him come from a distance...
that is a life i walked away from long ago...
but this poem makes me feel so much closer to it again...
thank you for that.
|| Posted on 2011-03-04 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] || "running late behind the headlines of the day"|
in NY everything runs crowded and late...
but this wispy boneless girl who flits and flutters her way down the avenue, with nic taking pictures and then they squeeze into the subway and go home for the night...to their skyscraper apartment and look out the fifth story window at the stars, and wish they were somewhere quiet, and rural...because NY can be so cruel...when you're running behind the headlines..
and this morning's paper is already on the front stoop of your life.
i am NY, been NY, felt NY...even as a child, it still is carried within me now...i felt this poem sliding through me...
like a subway heading for my heart.
|| Posted on 2011-02-22 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] || New York been there remember heavy traffic five hours to cross the George Washington bridge. I remember picking up bales of garbage and hauling it to Virgina. I remember a bleak cityscape begging for Godzilla to liven things up. I never had any fun in New York. I got stuck in a parking garage My truck would not fit had to stop traffic and back out. Who is this boneless girl she sounds intriguing. So did you get a transfusion? I know a cold IV|
makes my wrist burn. If Nic filmed her can I see the video? I want to meet God too. Right now I want to meet him and kick him in the nads. I can't drive because I am out of hours on my logs. I am sitting at a steel coil shipper in Jackson Mississippi (wonderful town) but at least I can get on line and I have you to entertain me.
|| Posted on 2010-12-16 00:00:00 | by DaleP | [ Reply to This ] || I wish our compositions could suffice|
for balance as we slide on vice
in cityscapes hung on frozen air
like pools of lead lying between voice and ear...
|| Posted on 2010-12-16 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ] |