As/Is







11.28.2013


From "The Posit Trilogy"



Decoy Dream

You were one of the twelve
of you doing what you were
doing; promised a part in
a Communist parade, a five
year contract to be who you
were against eleven imposters—
I saw you on South St. on
my thirty-sixth birthday,
you had pigtails, and as you
lied to the barrista about
working at Condom Kingdom
(for seven years), I remembered
Loren Hunt on the floor of
Gleaner’s bathroom on mescaline—


Eris Temple

That night I got raped by a brunette
chanteuse, I lay on the linoleum floor
of the front room sans blanket, & thought

I could hack it among the raw subalterns
of the Eris Temple, who could never
include me in their ranks, owing to my

posh education; outside, on Cedar Street,
October gave a last breath of heat before
the homeless had to hit rock bottom again, &

as Natalie lay next to me I calculated
my chances of surviving at the dive bar
directly across from the Temple for the

length of a Jack and Coke, North Philly
concrete mixed into it like so many notes—








11.26.2013


To Courtney (Double Entendre)



yes, the family wanted me dead,
but I killed you off none the
less, just as the Asians predicted
(Dragon born in a snow-storm),

and the picture remains filed away,
as do your years of rowdiness,
the child that you were, and killed,

leaving “double entendre” in my
hands, driving my cart/plough
over dead bones, knowing

our marriage of heaven and hell—








11.23.2013


From "The Great Recession"


What Philadelphia Is

As no one’s going to tell you,
Philadelphia and Los Angeles
are the same place. That’s why
the goomba princes rigged things
a long time ago to look a certain
way: “nothing’s happening here,
folks; this is the realm of the
underdogs, blue collar losers,
flatulent artistic mediocrities;
please pack your bags and head for
New York.” It’s all a decoy, and if
you run into an elderly matron in
a North Philadelphia slum and she
happens to be Vivien Leigh, don’t be
surprised. As for me, I’ve always
depended on the kindness (and blindness)
of strangers, hung back with the beasts.
Go ahead and open that window.


Space

On his daily walk down Fayette Street,
he senses something he’s never sensed
before— space. With everyone cleared out
(into death, probably), he owns the ground
he treads on, and the space he takes up is
his own. That’s his compensation, as an older
man, for the misery and deprivations of the
Great Recession— space. He feels the cosmos,
how vast it is, and as he stands in a short
line at CVS to pick up his prescriptions,
the cosmos has in it something eternal, which
will continue with or without him, or us.
Emptiness is what you make it.








11.13.2013


Art Odyssey : Heller-Burnham


Here's an incredible Abs-page I thought to lock in for the ages.








11.02.2013


"Day