New York New York New York is all about Ruby Bear

assembling my review

Her purple and green eye's are bolted to the marble head on the shelf up above the stove. The yellow foam in her brown chair smells like the cat's stomach. Ruby's singing mad singing like she's gone home drunk,

Everyone likes the soup and Everyone's in the shower she'll Close the flat glass door and Turn on all the weather

She lives in the Brooklyn with a man that knows her guy. Once it happened she was in love, Oh sentimental me. Nobody does it better, she say's to the tall floating whistle of steam in the dripping black window.
Her house is blue. It's a little bit like a cold vein or a jagged crook of stream in a winding country novel. Ruby likes to think that she knows all of the winding words in that heavy book but all she gets are the pictures and maybe the place in the map.
The scale is under the sink. She sets it on the table with a plate of small carrots and warm hummus. At nine she exchanges coffee for drugs. First the officer will knock and knock until she turns her radio down. Then they'll sit and talk about the limitless potential of real estate. The bodega on the corner is up for sale again, so who knows...

Comments

Totem

Tonight is old. It's wett but current and bored. I'm watching nothing but stars in the often sky that happen... do... tonight is lame like old, young like song, even as blue... Equal after the sun, noon or scripted yellow you are to me... A we (as sound)

Whiskers, chanting, "swap me, swap me!"

Fig.32) Aging poorly We're just together, taking ourselves for a tidy sum of walk and now our toes are wet and cool in the Lak, beside a cool stone that could drive a modernist to their flint. There's a listening experience that feels prepared, "our's for now, ours it says! Here's the hammer and it's wrapped in its own design already. A union in time-space, this card is our greetings, our massive, our very patience is reflected in this resolve." Suddenly, there's a cut away and she's wearing the pants that I've made for her, slow blue like painted smoke . I'm thinking about her hunched over the kitchen table, something that's stuck. There's a carving knife in her hand but from here, it's the same as an old spoon. From here my computer is sitting on my guilty seat, I'm thinking about champagne and comparing it to a thick wad bees and wondering whats in it for me? It's an anxious season, filled with not enough of anythin

Songlet is Best

fig.0231) FizzGraf MT. "Magical, like a chorus of like minded souls in a froth of cotton fumes." Over fake doors, under refurbished ladders, gypsum board and bent yellow pipes offering us an unmade bed and a stained window. Our one chance at tomorrow. Magnetic guts from at least a thousand cassettes are strewn across the room. Hee-Haw style, fancy dress shoes cling to the floor like it's '86 all over again. Hee-Haw, goes the sound. Hee-Haw, we're closer then we were. Hee-Haw, it's hilarious. Listening for trains, leaning out over the rails like two people with no time at all. Better maps, that's what we need. We could use a melody for singing with this chorus; in whose curious presence more patients wait to be found. With hands over our heads, someone passes by and asks, "gender?" There's stars in this sweet tooth of mine and some atoms left from the sky, Tonight the whole angle of heaven sleeps without light. Ordering its coffee darkest, t

stagnanTVowels

Search This Blog