Wednesday, January 28, 2009

yes

... More and more, it seems our errand
is to face the music, bring the noise, scour the rocks
to salvage grace notes and fragmented harmonies,
diving for pearls in the beautiful ruins,
walking all night through the pigeon-haunted streets
as fresh snow softly fills the imprint of our steps.

from Campbell McGrath's "Angels and the Bars of Manhattan"

4 comments:

  1. I still have the card you gave me with that quote. It's a very good quote.

    QUOTE.

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  2. well, that's pretty good. but if/when you come visit me i'm sure you'll write better.

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  3. D: good.

    S: when. how's bushwick in the summer? I presume sultry, but I would also accept airless. Or this poem:

    BUSHWICK BOHEMIA
    by Emanuel Xavier

    Para mi gente…
    chequealo…
    Bushwick on my mind
    quinceañeras at the bodega
    with their pretty pink dresses
    luscious dark eyes
    longing to cut the Valencia cakes
    while Mr. Softee lingers
    over coco helados y piragüeros
    fighting for the last dollar

    Across the street,
    santeros dressed in white
    with their collares
    buying chickens at the poultry shop
    for their next tambor
    to be held this Sunday
    in someone else’s crowded basement

    Maggie cruisin’ back and forth
    back and forth
    Keeping the dealers in check
    As the sounds of beepers
    Rottweiler fights
    Freestyle
    & chanting from the Pentecostal church
    fill the air with the smells
    of pernil, alcapurrias y empanadas
    from La Claribel -
    the best cuchifrito in town

    Up on the roof,
    Miguelito giving blow jobs
    to grey-haired old men
    so that he can get a fade
    at Paul’s boutique
    or buy mami that fake painting
    she wanted for $5.99
    down Knickerbocker Avenue

    Malitza walking by
    pregnant with her second baby
    only 18 & already night manager at McDonald’s
    she wasn’t gonna end up consumed
    in the empty little crack bags
    she counted
    every morning
    on her way to Grover Cleveland High School

    Hector, her boyfriend,
    home from playing handball all day
    lying shirtless on the couch blunted out of his mind
    staring at the roach on the ceiling
    one single roach in a vast desert
    or maybe an alien exploring a new world
    the ceiling fan -
    his spaceship

    Doña Carmen sneezing so loud
    The walls so thin
    Hector says ‘Salud‘
    & she hears him from the second floor
    over Walter Mercado
    on Canal 41

    Turning off the kitchen lights
    so that the roaches can scurry into the darkness -
    their freedom
    like the children playing out all night

    Waiting for the L train
    ‘Mira, Georgie…
    gimmie a quarter!’
    ‘Fine…
    but cha betta pay me back tomorrow!’

    Life in Bushwick,
    ain’t it a trip!
    One day we’ll all be buried
    beneath the ground we spit on

    ReplyDelete
  4. oh my, i got so excited when he shouted out to knickerbocker that i literally set aside my laptop and jumped up and yelled, "knickerbocker, WOOOOOORDDDDD!!!!!!" this is how seriously i take my hood. thank you *so much* for sharing.

    aaaaaand you're in luck, because the 'shwick in the summer is BOTH sultry and airless but hey, that's what fans and brass monkeys are for, dear.....

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