Spider City

    After a while I dreamt about

    the Spider City

    & when I woke up in my

    flannel pj's

    the curtain flapped open

    & the sky greeted me.

    Hello Karen， Hello Little Bee，

    it said which is when

    I remembered the strange

    webbed sky of the Spider

    City & your face in the

    middle saying Kiss Me.

    Breathless City

    Every city is a little breathless，

    a little behind the times，

    racing to catch up， thus

    gasping.

    That day I wore a gray suit，

    white gloves， 1960 or so.

    Some thin man approached

    & offered me $$ to

    pose in the nude.

    The sun over St. Patrick's

    Cathedral like a child's

    sun， all rays around

    a smiling face

    & the man whose gray suit

    matched my own was

    called Ray！

    Such coincidences

    occur in a city whose heart

    splits open in two shocks.

    But this happened later.

    & I wasn't around

    though I watched it on TV.

    Dapper City

    In Florida the palm branches

    rustle like neckties，

    the ocean an opulent

    cologne we plunder，

    the grass， green as the

    stolen eye of the Dowager

    or a bruised infant

    which is so sad

    found in the trash can

    among some white receipts

    & spaghetti.

    I am smoking a cigarette

    wishing it were over-

    the parasols， the gliding waterway

    ships， the cocktails，

    the aces & clubs， the languorous beach

    stretches， the strings of pearls，

    hats-

    wishing it would begin again.

    Dieting City

    Or Starving City. It's hard

    to tell. For one thing， it's

    dark & for another

    I feel inadequate.

    My perpetual motion has

    ceased to amuse anyone here

    （I confide） even though……

    I wore a beautiful skirt of red silk

    & when I whirled you could

    see everything-

    the river

    with its captured lights， the

    glint of bridges， the

    pock-marked Palisades，

    aflame.

    So much of this is untrue.

    A worm slunk in the sidewalk cracks.

    An old， old woman， wreathed

    in snot，

    spoke sharply： She said，

    "just because you give me five dollars

    don't entitle you to my life's story."

    City of Jokes

    A man goes to a psychiatrist

    sporting a huge gash in his

    forehead， says I bit

    myself. How did you

    do that？ asks the psychiatrist.

    It was easy， says the man.

    I stood on a stool.

    Afterwards， I pulled out of

    the parking garage & the

    day was overcast， streets

    icy.

    I drove up the hill & took

    a right. I drove by the

    drive-in coffee place &

    the brown house with the

    shutters & took a left

    & then I was home.

    I turned

    on the radio at this point.

    A girl with a cane made her way

    down the sidewalk.

    She was a stranger，

    & she was my daughter.

    Elizabethan City

    I encountered Hamlet in a glade

    & this scene， forsooth， changed into

    hills &

    then again a dark chamber

    in which my own mother lay dying.

    I wish it were another era

    but things occur where

    they will

    & my defenses are poor ones.

    She has elegant bones which，

    in age， have become sharp &

    unfriendly.

    （Oh the body weeps & slickers

    of hair cover all of us who

    keep vigils.）

    In a moment， I too， would

    invent a soliloquy about

    existence.

    My heart in its jeweled box

    as of nothing

    & zero the shape of

    sorrow which doesn't

    add up.

    City of Dot Dot Dot

    There was a window， a drape，

    a venetian blind thickened with

    dust， an accordion sound

    up from the street……

    Your friend the author [was] inside

    this which was inside that which was

    once again……

    ad nauseum……

    contained in……

    etc etc……

    Space

    shrinks & even afternoons

    which once seemed so voluminous

    have dwindled to a sad heap……

    Little wrinkled days no longer

    unfold…… Lawns have grown

    minuscule & purposeless…… Hairs

    sprout on the female chin & buildings

    formerly majestic are……

    But I was crazy then……

    In the fullness of each moment……

    I walked everywhere in the gloam & sand……

    City of Basements

    Of course， conducive to sleep.

    Of course， musty & poorly

    organized. You wouldn't go there

    uninvited. I wouldn't invite you.

    But there are chinks in the brick ceilings

    that make it seem radiant

    elsewhere， which is a blessing.

    & amid the rats & spider houses

    I might invent something

    spectacular （I almost believe）。

    This is all I have to say about it.

    Because it is unamenable to description.

    Because even now my eyes are closing.

    Pity yourself， Sister.

    Life is harder than you dreamed possible.