the city poem

Posted: August 12, 2010 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , ,

i know the exact spot on rivers avenue when and where i smelled the old church building. it made me want to write a poem. then i turned onto ashley phosphate and almost ran over a brand new shoe: a brilliant patent leather high heel sandal. i had to stop in the median to write the poem in Spanish. go figure. it simply flowed better, even though i didn’t speak spanish at the time. i had read a lot of it, and maybe in writing i was simply reading it, so i didn’ thave any problems…   i laugh.  the short poem came out smelling of bodies and old smoke, of sunshine on clean shirts and falling stockings. only the shoe stood in its inevitable path o rural simplicity. the whore was a given. the transvestite running across the railroad tracks was a perfect possibility. the beggar. the drugged up young woman. the high school drop out going from cheap motel to the waffle house for coffee and those irritating potatoes they fry or something.  once all of that has vanished into the morning light, only the show remained: unashamed, untarnished, intact. The shoe which was foretold by the church


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