Thursday, April 22, 2010

Washington Square Park on April 2, 2010

Like dark armies peaceful in the spring sun
step with their breath and the wind blows
trash, foil red and silver, into tree-trunks—
warm shoes in the hot breeze, Prima donna,
please love me.
A baby is rolling by,
bare foot up in the hot breeze, solemnly,
forehead wrinkled; men and women
shouldering each other among the trash, trash,
breathing stepping breathing, step breath step,

friction in the sun, nothing
but now is, but now’s nothing—is it? Trash,

trash, step, breath, step. My name
is Memory, come follow me
around the trash; you’re mine.
Step
breath step, no, no. Hey,
Moment, you own me,
and the eyes that fell and him smiling,
matrimony in the breezes, hey,
he fell she fell will you marry me
I have a short dress can I
breathe on unbuckle you can I
step heavy trash hear me can I
Follow me, my name is
step trash the heavy wind and I