the stranger

it is one of those strange new york nights...it is cold and crisp with just a sliver of moon...it lends its weirdness to the beasts...and i know them all, walking quickly, disappearing between street lamps...the ghosts are out early, before halloween...oh yes, i know them all, for they are my fellows, they are my ladies, they are my soul...as krishna said in the gita...
"i know all creatures
that have been, that now exist,
and that are yet to be;
but, Arjuna, no one knows me"
another crisp waking eve, another uneasy sleep, in the womb of existence, in the cradle of my love...

chilly night on essex street

would you like to know how out of the loop i truly am?...today someone mentioned contact points to me and i had no idea what they were talking about...am i that far away from reality that i don't even know what contact points are...(i do now by the way)...man i cannot believe i have gotten through thirty years without knowing that...after all they are important...then i thought, man i don't think i could ever find anyone important enough that would vouch for me...think about it, who would really have anything glowing to say...i can't think of one person, (not even my mother at this point)...ahh to be rich, pretty, and vacuous to boot...the bliss of the neverending sunshine...the curse of awareness is the curse of the enlightened soul...

"me dreamin' too"

i suppose there is not much to say but...i miss you my friends...it cannot be remedied, fixed, or reasoned with...it is what it is...the birth and the death...what is the postman gonna say...what is your mother going to say...another night on the glad-hand circuit...another night in the darkness...and it wears on us all, but what is to be done...only to miss the sunlight...waking up next to a friend is what the prophets prophisized...i miss you my friend...the night is long and you are all i have...i miss you...my friend...

anemic morning

i had a horrible dream last night that left me weak-kneed and weary...it was one of those mornings where you want to pop the cork on a bottle of wine simply to wash-away your battered ego, and the memory of ever being alive...i awoke to the sounds of children on the street chanting "lets go mets" and it made me want to puke...so easy to say, so simple to remember...it brought forth visions of the grand sickle, slicing through the city, ending its reign...when the head pounds and the limbs are limp, there is nothing to do but toss-and-turn in the silence...and pray for the savior who never shows...

the pabst of pwr

i am thinking of pwr tonite...i was looking around for some pictures to put on my smog stained walls and came across some of her old letters...not love letters, we were lovers but never in writing...just letters...i wish i still received a few...you probably enjoy receiving letters, but you haven't received any like these...they shine through your rusty mailbox...they almost burn your hands off with sunshiny goodness...true sunshiny goodness!...none of this pre-processed, over-ironic shit...oh yes my brothers and sisters, i am talking about the real thing...they are chock-full-o that shit that makes you want to climb the tallest mountain peak to seek beauty, truth, forgiveness, or next week's football scores...she was (and still is) one crazy woman, but damn if she ain't the best...she is the one that will keep us together...

the music on clinton street

i stayed on the subway yesterday...i could not bring myself to get up...it rolled over the east river, shimmering as if in a dream...the ferries and ships to and fro...the brooklyn bridge in the foreground, the battery in the distance...certainly a mystical experience...rising from the bowels and inner-workings into the light...it is in these moments when it all comes together and is pleasant...and on the way back, again over the river, i witnessed the crumpled souls huddling in the darkness come out of their slumber and become the children of old, and with the train, simultaneously rejoice in the light...then retreat, like the train, on into the depths of muck and steel and darkness...but we all have the memory, and soon it will be realized...together we will cross the river, suspended in bliss, suspended in the grasp of infinity...