writing on the Q train

dear readers,

here are some shorts i wrote on the Q train this afternoon, i was on my way to nyu’s italian house, for a seminar class i’ve been digging, called italian masculinity in 1920’s american cinema. enjoy.

west coasting
cube instrumental on the ears easy
brooklyn bridge on the eyes

the subtle knife
all this warrior work
and i am descending
into subtler spaces
the subtle knife
pulling for windows
into new worlds

fort hamilton
sister adorers of
the precious blood
graveyard day laborers
under a tree for the flood
watch cemetery turn fall
red and yellow
above them all

family is a joke
in the morning one tiny toke
eliminate waste
preliminary haste
to shake off the rage
of the morning
i woke up itching to fight
can’t barely control the tide
like a part of me died
buried alive
still seething
rage is the only breath
im still breathing
avenger with feathers
to get her
i am nobody’s nightmare
not even in full flame
but only my own angel
basquiat said samo same

bikram yoga #1
halfway thru i always want to raise my hand
and say, excuse me, perhaps you haven’t noticed
but it’s hot in here
could you open a window
because my body can take it
but my mind can’t believe
pouring sweat like water through a sieve

bikram yoga #2
even my shin bone
is coursing with sweat
i am on my stomach
a river spills out from
the valley of my spine
one drop right, one drop left
i am on one leg
the river runs off my angles
elbows knees edges
drops fly off ledges
even my shin bone
is coursing with sweat

celebrating the dead, alora!

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