It's Literally Happening

A girl plops down next to me, 

then shuffles

          to the side, 

A stone gangster glances no

 glances, he is staring straight ahead    while

 the train is zipping by 

the background blurrrrrs,

silly chatter fills the train car tonight

the elevated train in Chicago...

 For now, the stakes are low

 it is early--there is no cigarette smoke or rowdy boys wanting to make it into a dance

The homeless men who will sleep here at 2 a.m. have not yet boarded. It's because they are on the streets yet with their old coats, which they will use as pillows when they come.

Photo by Hannah Frank: Photo of unidentified commuter

 

A Bomb From Mars

The circuit board was cracked and splintered, there

on the steps by the alley where the lit

cigarette was thrown before the car drove

by with the package in the trunk bumping.

It was a bomb from the planet of Mars

with the whole thing ticking...waiting to blow.

The cops were hovering around like bees

their tan raincoats flapping as they looked down

surveying the scene and writing in books.

The grime on the foot print near the tire track

was going to crack the case wide open--

if only they could see it. 

Infared glasses might help, or x ray vision to

determine it was brought here by a man

who was just a travelling alien.

He was here from Mars, fresh from Mercury,

carrying a bomb that would blow up,

proving the aliens are just a mob

and they saw us here on earth and they thought

us humans are not doing a great job.

People are dying underneath the tanks

factories are blowing out the black smoke

we've had all this opportunity...

Let's not make our chance at beauty a joke.

Our Time on Earth

The storm is coming, it will start to rain

We will bathe ourselves in the new rivers

The sparrows know the secrets of the clouds

they whisper words that fish and turles hear

We bubble up not knowing where to go

Gurgling like babes fresh out of the womb

These drips will drop down to the hard, dry soil

Our time on earth is over far too soon

THE TRAIN

He walked through the woods, through the alley in the city, through the dreams of his mind, down the tunnel of where she was. He was in the subway tunnel but felt displaced, unknown. The late night train would be rolling through soon, and the rats would scatter and the billboards would shake for an instant, before the magazine ready models went back to their plastic gazes, staring at nothing for eternity. His lips felt dry and wanted a cigarette, a taste of a salty kiss, but it was no more. He grasped the leather strap of his bag and slung it across his shoulder, harder than he needed to, and waited for the train.

UNFETTER

The rim around the coffee cup tipped up then down I took a sip

It stung like bees criss crossing on my fingertips like a hush up to my lips

what was this silence? Dark and mellow strange but never bitter

the pitter patter of tiny feet, these long lost demons running down the hall

I stopped and counted them all

I scooped them up like stars in my hand

and shouted to the wind as I released the sand

Now, now, NOW! Do I understand? 

Do I unfetter?

I do understand.

I do unfetter.

I lose my better half to become whole.

STAYING LOCAL

He is in Katmandu sending me letters about the colorful trash

I thought we might reconnect like on a rotary dial phone

The way time has passed has been less like a banana peel slipping under my foot

and like a hood around people kissing in that one Magritte painting

She is in China, explainning the training to the people there

she said they live in shacks and the sunrise coming up through the smog

is other worldly.

I meanwhile took a trip to the grocery store.

Later in the rain I walked by it again, soaking wet, and bought a poncho

made of plastic from a homeless man named Alvin for $6.

It was a good purchase and I got what I needed, and he would get supper later.

A TREND CAME

 

The polite way to freak out 

The silly way to speak up

The bright way to stick up for a friend

The old way to drop a line

Did we stop doing those things

we used to do because a trend came?

HAPPENSTANCE

 

Happenstance was the way things used to be, they danced then set me free.

HOT WATER

(2) Hot water makes tea, you steam up with soliloquies

ghostly moving through the locked gates

you spill suddenly, I am standing on the ground

pondering the make-up of your soap box

Why do you talk so fast?

Rivers always get where they are going.

(1) Hot water makes tea, I am so sick of your soliloquies

as you reverberate through the locked gates

Oil makes black top, I am standing on the ground

pondering the make-up of your soap box

Why do you talk so fast?

Rivers always get where they are going.