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Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Poem 13/30 Making More

MAKING MORE
(Reflections from Jon Sands’ book release party)

Triple 14A’s meander up the avenue.
I’m reading The New Clean -
circle-eyed dogs, grandmother Grace,
a crisp sun-filled bench –
I believe that you are a great poet
because I’ve said
How the fuck did you do that???
at least three times, out loud,
schoolboy’s backpack knocking
into my shoulder, Adele loving
the last one in my ears

I read, and I remember moments.

Screaming poems off 10th Street rooftops
Before I gave it all to heroin
Writing a story that began
It was me and Louie
Before I gave it all to heroin
The box of drawings I left in Martin Wong’s
Ridge Street 6th floor walk-up apartment
Before I gave it all to heroin
The ghetto dollhouse with the tiny police lock
Before I gave it all to heroin

Windows open briefly, allowing
friends to fall in love with being friends,
create familiy, the lucky ones
transfused with blood brothers, the rest
of us hoping that maybe the world
was wrong, maybe we are not doomed
The iron gates once turned silver
Before I gave it all to heroin

I listen to your brilliance
Jon, Adam, Angel, Jeanann
I watch you shine
And envision the before,
Before I gave it all to heroin,
Before I learned how
to go make some more

© puma perl, 4/13/11

4 comments:

  1. my erasure:

    screaming poems off 10th Street rooftops

    it was me and louie
    ghetto dollhouse with the tiny police
    friends fall in love, lucky, not doomed,
    turned iron, silver.
    i listen to your heroin, before I learned how.

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  2. is martin wong still alive? i think i saw yr drawings in a book of his paintings - i'd sue him

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  3. he's dead and i didn't kill him. but i was watching a movie about him at the New Museum at a posthumous show and he was talking about these fucked up people he knew on the LES, and it was me.

    ReplyDelete