untitled
You who are blind
and want people to see you
who got blinks and blame
who learned early life's a fight
had neither guidance nor foresight
whose world ended at the corner store with neon lights
thought beating your wife and incest were right
were one day accused of a crime of passion
that blind love made
with blood, blade, and blasphemy blaze
had a trial
thought of society's blind intentions during it
were in denial only after it
who got blinks, blame, blind justice
and now,
a blind road:
nowhere to go
Year
People bracing at the Watchtower clock
across the shimmering river
flashing Celsius, Fahrenheit,
and then the time.
The time
and everybody's delayed reaction.
The hugs, horns,
kisses for Jennifer and Doris,
and freezing fireworks.
You laugh at the spermy ones
and hope for the droopy willow ones.
And you,
paralyzed,
when there's movement.
So much movement.
Button
Envelope plain and flat flat. Sealed tight possibly w/Elmer's glue by the dark stains on the front. Inconspicuous and musterious, but how could it have arrived through the mail (no name, no address, no anything)> Reluctant to openit because of the Unabomber and then realize that what's inside is too small to be a bomb. Feel it. Like a coin. See the imprint. A coin. Like when I went to the U.S.Postal Museum in Washington that had old stamps and foreign mailboxes. There was a section about scams done through the mail. They showed an ad in a magazine for a portrait of Abraham Lincoln being sold at a low price. Send the money and you got a penny and a note which literally used the word "sucker".
I open it. It's the button I lost from my sweater last week! My green fuzzy favorite. I needed this button! I had already used the spare one that hid on the sweater, and I hated looking for buttons at Woolworth.
I remember I was in the subway & I think it got caught in the turnstile cuz I heard a rip and a metal click and I felt like doing something but didn't know what and just kept on walking, disoriented for two minutes, and afraid.
Cobblestone
Dark damp night
accompanied by thick
fog had begun to chill
cold streets.
Dark snug of O'Neill's shop.
Sullen-faced man
hopeless
uttered a squeal of pain
fell upon his knees
hopeless.
More Poems