Metropolitan Glade

 for John Taggart

1.
 
Give me shadows! Light!
Shake your booty!
Here in this crowded place
 
Train going out of the station
… so as not to lose one’s …
Walls speak, neighbors, and doors screeching
 
and little chirps
a “reminder that the object is song”
                 — fragment of the fragmentation
 
Walls speak, neighbors, “there’s no sun”
and saying “don't know”
“don’t know why”
 
Everything an elevated line
Siren, dog, truck backing into a driveway, sex
and doors screeching
 
Piqued the wise man said:
You have to include the question,
That we are many
 
Sounds/songs keep changing, the skies have
seen so many, off gray streaked gray
Fat sparrows, today very many
 
On Broadway an elevated line
To start with observation/not rush for the next train
“don’t know why, there’s no sun up”
 
 
2.
 
“We found out where the screaming was coming from.”
 
Brick buildings                      Plane trees
Jet black tree branches
The dark ground
 
“One of your neighbors has Alzheimer’s, lives with”
 
Time runs                                takes over            
Sunrise hovers
matter is
 
“her daughter. She has a nurse and every so often”
 
Dogs are,                                 that’s background
The compound is scraped and salted
The snow is    
 
“She has physical therapy and that’s when you hear her.”
 
Generates foreground
Thought                 in the news           bleak
Squirrels scurry
 
“But everything’s okay, a nurse is with her.”
 
And scaffolding?
A robin builds its nest
Builds                                      
 
 
3.
 
Speaking from
the branch in/at each line
 
I sat in my room, a wanderer
catching prayers,
 
lifted language
from the additive
 
Spoke of it, how soon
we’ll be beginning as we end
 
How much waste the resistance
Language can be a brick wall
 
a way not to say hello, “Hello!”
Much of the time/an old story
 
Pavements here not like in Mexico
so rich we must acknowledge
 
the surface sentence
I will not let you go until …
 
You touch me city of cities
Things of the spirit touch
 
Spoke of how we all live together
buildings, bricks, a neighborhood playground
 

notes:

“reminder that the object is song” is John Taggart

I will not let you go until … is from Genesis, 32:26