for Victor Poison-Tete, and, in memory of Cary Gevanter

gazing into hopeless mirrors pancho villa swears,
angry that he has no toolkit to remove his nasal hairs.
two doors down, a lunatic is passed out on the stairs.
a businessman who tends to business … traipses by and doesn't care.

in the pit of van brunt station, folks diseased and deeply troubled,
wracked by situations … one can see so many haunted scowling
faces standing there … boobs and retards passing air,
pissing pants and underwear. rank-and-file reptiles nervous –
scoot on down the street.

kitschy and quixotic billboard from a culvert dangles
the city fathers' p.r. program,
"hello and welcome to brooklyn."

withdrawn workers lurching in… commuter trains that disappear.
grease-besotted subway rats, decendants of the katzenjammer
kids with crazy sneers. never mind the psychopathic
flailing in a sea of fear, endless threats to life and limb …
suffocating in its way, this home to pimps and heart disorders.
up above a billboard's glinting,
"hello and welcome to brooklyn."

bloods wit no attention span … looking crazed and on the ropes,
the gallivanting comatose … done wit messing, coalescing,
basket cases, waves and waves … trudging up
from subway tunnels in a toothless mindless haze,
"hello and welcome to brooklyn."









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© 2006 - 2009 by KC wilder



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