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2.05.2016 4325 Baltimore Avenue ('04) Jason cooking flounder on a filthy range, picked up at 40th & Walnut where Penn students mingled w/ artists, Chomsky-ites, bums, mothers, where French bread for two bucks we’d carry around for walks home down rustic mansion’d streets, fish-waft filling lovably threadbare kitchen laden w/ mustard & crumbs— gone— Mary’s Acme pesto pasta, Olive-oil Goddess she’d make a pot on pot in a pot & we’d have a bowl from the pot watching hot French-flicks in the vivid living room, gone— paintings, Mary’s evocations Dionysus & Apollo, Jason post-Dali post-structuralist Dada & Derrida derived violences, submitted to smitten PAFA judges winking secretly at Jason’s tight ass, Mary’s too, they screwed, we screwed, we all were screwing each other secretly, tenderly, flecked w/ little chips from falling ceiling, gone— parties on green-awning’d porch, weed midnights; butt-smoke, frost-breath, gun-stocked West Philly cops stop to shock us w/ looks, putting no cell-bar cramps on druggy St. Steven, gone— moments later I’d drag Mary into her wood- floored torrid bedroom & open-door fuck her, hoping Josh & Kevin might spy us, one time on whiskey Mary’s diaphragm got stuck inside her, I felt it, fucking her, we laughed, Mary’s hair then was long down to her ass, raucous, gone— Grace, Jason’s grace, a minx of jinxing, she from rich Connecticut knows Salinger reads my poems at parties makes snot comments, silver-belted, out on the back porch in October wind we stood, Grace, raven tresses Heaven-breasts innocent sex, girlfriend who had Jason by the face, ass, I made scathing Spears comment everyone hissed, instead we put on Stones Kinks Elliott Smith, Josh who played music, gone, now w/ Sara, jailbait date stealing cars & kisses, back-seat caresses blonde tresses sun-dresses, trouble- starting, Kevin’s dread on my head, gone— Kevin dumb chimp we called him big beast of a man writing bad songs doing Ritalin lines raging through nights fucking Diana, gone, moans that broke us up, Oh Kevin Oh Kevin, waitress of the hunt, Diana, blank stare, no cares or qualms taking alms from everyone, doing laundry, Diana & me in lust discreetly, doors open, Bohemian dream-time— apogee— everyone hot— everyone fucking, painting making music, boozing, drugging, sucking, humping, leaning on nothing but the night’s promise, always more night, another line, another ride, time to find out food, hues of mood, clues of color, love shape, O Lord we were the crux of ourselves, our nexus the nexus, our moment the moment, all now reduced to ash, nothing but a shut window, a fiery memory of an open one… posted by Adam Fieled on Friday, February 05, 2016 Post a Comment
4325 Baltimore Avenue ('04) Jason cooking flounder on a filthy range, picked up at 40th & Walnut where Penn students mingled w/ artists, Chomsky-ites, bums, mothers, where French bread for two bucks we’d carry around for walks home down rustic mansion’d streets, fish-waft filling lovably threadbare kitchen laden w/ mustard & crumbs— gone— Mary’s Acme pesto pasta, Olive-oil Goddess she’d make a pot on pot in a pot & we’d have a bowl from the pot watching hot French-flicks in the vivid living room, gone— paintings, Mary’s evocations Dionysus & Apollo, Jason post-Dali post-structuralist Dada & Derrida derived violences, submitted to smitten PAFA judges winking secretly at Jason’s tight ass, Mary’s too, they screwed, we screwed, we all were screwing each other secretly, tenderly, flecked w/ little chips from falling ceiling, gone— parties on green-awning’d porch, weed midnights; butt-smoke, frost-breath, gun-stocked West Philly cops stop to shock us w/ looks, putting no cell-bar cramps on druggy St. Steven, gone— moments later I’d drag Mary into her wood- floored torrid bedroom & open-door fuck her, hoping Josh & Kevin might spy us, one time on whiskey Mary’s diaphragm got stuck inside her, I felt it, fucking her, we laughed, Mary’s hair then was long down to her ass, raucous, gone— Grace, Jason’s grace, a minx of jinxing, she from rich Connecticut knows Salinger reads my poems at parties makes snot comments, silver-belted, out on the back porch in October wind we stood, Grace, raven tresses Heaven-breasts innocent sex, girlfriend who had Jason by the face, ass, I made scathing Spears comment everyone hissed, instead we put on Stones Kinks Elliott Smith, Josh who played music, gone, now w/ Sara, jailbait date stealing cars & kisses, back-seat caresses blonde tresses sun-dresses, trouble- starting, Kevin’s dread on my head, gone— Kevin dumb chimp we called him big beast of a man writing bad songs doing Ritalin lines raging through nights fucking Diana, gone, moans that broke us up, Oh Kevin Oh Kevin, waitress of the hunt, Diana, blank stare, no cares or qualms taking alms from everyone, doing laundry, Diana & me in lust discreetly, doors open, Bohemian dream-time— apogee— everyone hot— everyone fucking, painting making music, boozing, drugging, sucking, humping, leaning on nothing but the night’s promise, always more night, another line, another ride, time to find out food, hues of mood, clues of color, love shape, O Lord we were the crux of ourselves, our nexus the nexus, our moment the moment, all now reduced to ash, nothing but a shut window, a fiery memory of an open one… posted by Adam Fieled on Friday, February 05, 2016 Post a Comment
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