Ashphalt Astronauts

On a Lucky Star bus in the Bronx.
I switch to a ball point pen.
The sloppy purple Pilot G2 produces
unmanageable letters and words.
You've got to have a Bruce Lee grip
on your Moleskin to write anything
with a Chinese immigrant at the wheel.

At dusk, the Expressway is free
from its usual cluster fuck of
rancid trash trailers,
parades of smoggy eighteen wheelers
and cursing commuters from Long Island.

The sun sets behind Manhattan.
All of the icons and skyscrapers
are mountains carved from
a sea of Blood Orange clouds.

I wonder if the City's sidewalks
will produce a moment for me tonight.
A-this is really happening-top of the world-
unforgettable moment mass-produced
by a chaotic kinetic City of energies.

And yes, you are most definitely expected
to act out and rage on the street corners
tucked between Bushwick warehouses.
The thick rimmed souls sip wandering glasses
and sweat satisfaction all over one another.

These peacocks crave it all.
Most peacocks need the attention.
All peacocks belong in a flock of peacocks.
Some peacocks are really pigeons.

Elsewhere-away from the L trains,
Greenwich groceries and trampled concrete-
there is not as much of everything, everywhere.

Pick a pace, select a speed, vibe a vibe.
Rampant fetishization of capitalism by consumer tribes.
Everyone's a photographer with F-Stop eyes.
The City is a Space with asphalt astronauts inside.

RwmG

Raging

Raging

Raging
can be such an
adrenaline rush.

It's for
the creative
ones, the fortunate.

These
blue hearts all scream
out in dreamy peace.

Everyone
can hear our cry
from way over there.

Further
that we push-the
better-cus' we love!

And we
fill our hard drives
with Otis Redding.

And we
drink up and dance
when the ice thaws.

And we
do use our heads
when it really counts.

RwmG

drifting-very emotional

Lately, I've been drifting-very emotional.
Things like unemployment, social injustice, authentically living and dying.
Tears fill my eyes just enough for me to notice their presence and shoo them away.
Those powerful moments are reserved for the listeners of humanity.
As my first decade as a man approaches, I both love and fear the world's prospects-
that much i cannot hope to control.
However, I do not lie afraid of my life's prospects-
that much i understand.
I squint my eyes closed to try and feel the future coming at me head on.

RwmG