Winging it solo now I
Through clingy air
That spites my pores and
pretty clothes,
Adrench in steaming air I stumble.
Far too bright to notice much--
A headache is this place
But streets give way (
Thank god they do!
!) And round and fresh
The hillocks green
! And glassy cool
The muses' base
What flights of stairs
What godlike stacks
A kneel proves what I'd never guess--
even the stones are carpeted!
Arevel in a library's hospitality
The gods themselves were vain to intercede.
Maps of nirvana
Snapshots of the Virgin
Souvenirs of Stygian cesspools
They are mine
Myself for an hour
But the city's eyes have shut
And the muse must turn me out
So i wander
Wafting gently
(but my legs are getting tired)
Overtook by heaven's stars
And fragrant mist
I lay me down
Washed out with love...
The city is an angel
Pure and fine
Stretching out its limbs
Its pillowed wings
Against the boundless sky

Winging it solo now I
stiffly step
Admiring ('cause I can now)
every detail roundabout
Admiring (quite against myself)
The storied monster shrine,
Insectoid tower erected in
the name of vainest worthless struggle.
And approaching this,
I hear the all-pervading wail
Of the great industrial didgeridoo
In city's heart and soul
Not ever halting
Through back allies
I don't care that I'm alone
Despite their friendly, silly warnings--
I'm a teenager, Goddammit!
And imagine, if I was approached
By some unsavory rough
I'd subdue him with a kiss
For the nighttime city bids me so
my smile
I'm out and about and
solo now
Waywending, willI nillI
Knowing where I want to go
Without assurance how to get there
I, of course, I stumble on it
This old curiosity shop--but cheap!
I must have this

Head aswim with nightglow
I resume; decide return.
And on my walk back to bed,
remember... I need food to live

Winging it solo still and still
I sneak across live streets
And end up at 7-Eleven
Where the glass door's smeared
And painted in the humid sweat
of sultry night
The dude (for dude he was)
accepts my dollar bill
And I retrieve triumphant...
A token dinner.
Well, at least it says
"Good for you"
on this tube of packaged trail mix
So I may not feast like merchants,
But at least it says
"Good for you."
Tramping on the busy ways
I drop dollars on a wino
And approach the ivory chapel
Stamped with signals of the LORD
Bathed in moonlight's mesh of answers,
I sit down upon the church steps
Munch now nutritious nuts & berries
And, embraced in holiness,
Commence to read my dirty comix
Holy Mary
Let the City
By may angel evermore.
Bind me to this Seraph's legs
O sweet dear Jesus
I implore

---Still subtly solo,
Winding down I
Near the resting nest
I fairly crave.
Dead on my feet
I am accosted
by a money-grubbing Bossman's metal slave
Nights he turns it on
It will protect his parking lot
This tower, blaring speaker,
Makes me laugh at what it's not
So I love the city more
I love its every rusting part;
Though my city's but a robot
It still has an angel's heart