MTA

I: Observations

Cliche heels click along dots
and
ties tie down pistol whip shots
and
churros scour the roofs of our mouths
and
beggars bite to the platform like a louse
and
beats
_____beats
__________beats break a rhythm out of

buckets
and
sticks
and
trashcanSHOUTs

and
kids will tumble through cars selling chocolate
and
kids will danceflashdanceflashowyeah with hats
up off out onthefloor ontheirarm inyourface
y
Los Mexicanos con una guitarra y un acordeon y la voz bonita
tocar musica que es muy magnifico
and
cars that smell like piss for no apparent reason until that
reason's made apparent by bag-lady or crustyovercoat-man
and
if change isn't handed out through smiles, stares and
stares away are out through stoics
and
we wait for doors and pushy people and drooly heads
to lift from our shoulders smirking
and
heads will bobble while pupils will gaze,

drones will stare while we flash them unphased,

and the colors and numbers will sacrilege saveus.


II: Thoughts

Sanctuary sounds niccce between
messy _________________________screeches and whistles.
Essay means "to try" and so I'll
essay__________________________parallel the controlled chaos
therein, thereafter, descensions
tetris_________________________from stairs and escalators.
and ascensions live too through
Escher_________________________with a perambulating equilibrium.


III: Periodic Address

New York, New York: half of your days are spent in a
messy
essay
tetris
Escher.


IV: Conceding Epilogue

And I know that you're just as bittersweet as I am when we can see humanity but can't the





sunset subterranean.

When Repiblik Ayiti Crashed

You know, until now, we never acknowledged you.
You also know how you're the only nation congealed from the blood
of a slave revolt on the first day of 1804.
You know, Port-au-Prince, how you've played the pauper.

We knew you were flying white flags because you couldn't afford color,
We knew you were coming up a population while breaking down immunities.
We knew you were building cities out of iron wrinkled and leather-red in time.

We found out that even the familyless homeless praise jesus for their fortunes.
We found out that a black Frenchman, Jean Jacques Dessalines, can raise a nation to its feet,
but that his successors will never give
that nation
_________________________________________________________a chair to sit down
in_________________________________________________or a glass of water to drink.
We found out that somewhere between three thousand phlegmy gangs and scratchy blankets
of primarypoverty, a people can still make a beautiful language sprint between their mouths.

You can still build homes along dirtish hillsides and ignore the discretionless excretions.
You can still congregate without roofs, without walls, without windows.
You can still sing your iloveyous to spouses and children caught between bricks and mortar, pillars and floors.
You can still call on your Taino to guide you to Pic la Selle where the earth won't eat you.

But we only started looking at you.
Noticing your dimples and cigarette burnt arms because you fell in public,
you broke so many bones, and
we cried when we saw how much blood escaped the homes of your veins,
just on their way to the city of your clock.
We never saw you before, broken friend, but we want to come to your rescue now.
Because we can and because you can't pay those medical bills alone.
Why we feel bad now, for you, for now, is beyond us.

But we're here.

Maybe because a slam on the table doesn't get our attention, but a smack across the face does.
Maybe because your tears with gouged-out eyes made us do more than just change the channel.
Maybe because you needed to become white with asbestos-powdered noses before we put you in

the spotlight.

Current writing ideas to consider before writing

1. messy essay tetris escher, can't see sunset subterranean.

2. compassionate for the inanimate

3. Ginkos grandfathers old autumn and wrinkle in the soul of the cold.

4. Punks picking noses with Priests and Politicians making ecstasy O's and Prostitutes weeping.

5.Pervasive perversions, annoyances annointment, Pigmentation Segregation

6. If you're going to stand in a way, don't stand in the way.

7. He was such an asshole; he wouldn't even hit me!

8. the break up is real now: he defriended me on facebook.

9. "They don't need explanation; they want explanation. If they don't get it, they're lost and confused, and that makes them feel uncomfortable." -my sister on her rejection of explanatory text accompanying visual art.

10. "It looks like a field of butterflies outside." -Wendy Xu

A Letter to The Them

Having to endure the vexations and frustrations
of incredulously fruitless plans and conversations
has brought me to the reluctant decision to accept
"pity[ing] this busy monster, manunkind,
not." *

I abhor circumstances and persons without fruition,
be they extrinsically tangible or intrinsicically motivating.
The irrevocability of your w a v e r i n g
attitudes
perpetuates a distance
between us that you Must acknowledge.

Should you be so ignorant as to wave a hand and up a chin, it should have to suffice
that we oughtn't waste energies navigating the choppy murkiness of
unsures
and
itakethatbacks.

Get a [grip] on , then get a [grip] on how you >--connect--< to others.
So far, the wiring is making the b u l bl i nk, and we're trying to read.

Next time I find myself in front of
spanakopita, I'll think of you.

*"[pity this busy monster, manunkind,]" is a poem from Edward Estlin Cummings's 1944 collection "1 X 1 [ONE TIMES ONE]."

Freckles

I told her to stop counting her tears like steps
behind her exodus from dependence

and just tell me already. My ears and eyes
sought subtleties to appetize my idling.

we lay for ninety three minutes in speaklessness,
beside gasps and dashes of beginning syllables

darted from initiation to conclusion. Her
tears ran from the backdoors of her eyes

and into the alleys of her hair and bridges
of her nose, the red of her eyes glowing Amsterdam.

My eyes were closed all the while since there
was little to appreciate beside her sadness and

the overcast skies of an early New York autumn. How
apropos the lighting for the dollhousesize conversation.

"You already know." No, I didn't, I don't, we never do.
Men are deficient in many ways, and filling those knows

is one of them. Tell us, women, outright like a child.
Gentle weeps can mean death, parents, or bloating.

I wanted to play the part in interrogation of a
compassionate fool, and chose to scream instead,

whispering "I don't think you realize how goddamn
annoying and frustrating it is to leave me like this!"

And I had meant to leave me sitting in anxiety,
but she replied punctually "h-How d'you know?"