i haven’t presented a poem for a while, and as it is a sunny Fourth of July weekend here in new york, i figured this gentleman would do.  this entry is section 1 of a longer poem, as you can prolly see from the title. i thought it a bit much to post all of it here, but let me know if you feel differently. cheers and enjoy the celebrations…

2009.05.01 – night 1

i act like a monkey
and can’t control myself,
orange tulip petals on everything.

i burnt down the brooklyn bridge
then climbed up the charred concrete remains
and read ginsberg’s kaddish from the top,
but i got bored after one line and stopped.

the mississippi can’t make up her mind.
why won’t she die already?
ryan adams can go fuck himself.

i miss sitting in the center seat of the canoe,
i miss slow mornings that last for weeks.

what if i lose my fingers or my precious feet!
some girl’s eyes make me want to leap
through the closest window and the come
down drowns my saning mind.

photo by Thomas Hawk

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