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"rockaway" poems
WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the fog moon night last night? There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn white plungers. There came on the coast wind drive In the spit of a driven spray, On the boom of foam and rollers, The cry of midnight to morning: Hoi-a-loa. Hoi-a-loa. Hoi-a-loa. Who has loved the night more than I have? Who has loved the fog moon night last night more than I have? Out of the sea that song -can I ever forget it? Out of the sea those plungers -can I remember anything else? Out of the midnight morning cry: Hoi-a-loa: -how can I hunt any other songs now?
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2k
Far Rockaway Night till Morning
Come down, come down, come down from your rain cloud. You're always rainin' on me babe. It isn't practical up there, what's the use? And if you're in the sky where am I, save, you gotta save it for me now. Rock me rock me rock me rock me Rockaway, rock me to Brighton!, Coney Island dead give away, hey! I feel like there is more- there is more and, and I'm not fully sure, not from New York. everybody moves their body fast they wanna do this city fast, rock me rock me rock me, rock me, you know I'm slow. Get wise, get wise rest sore eyes on petals blue. The waves and the flat lands are too high now.
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Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
Come Down, Rock me
Around this particular time i can recall bonfires on a Far Rockaway beach in between two and three AM The fire; a heap of AM newyork papers burning in a rusted trash can stolen from the boardwalk. Kiah was beautiful her hair, coarse honey ringlets framed a narrow face. I watched her eat grapes and pull her hair away from her eyes a couple of times. She ate the grapes and their juice made her lips glossy she did this and sipped on a Corona her boyfriend sat behind her playing the guitar and no attention to anyone. I wanted him. A few days before that I was in his room He asked if I ever heard Shaggy's "Mr. Bombastic" that's what was playing when she walked into the room she stared at me like a cat plotting an attack walked past me like one too the night before that I lay on the floor of his room. There was no furniture a motor bike in the corner. Some drums, and various painted wood boards hung up, some laying on the floor. Oil pastels scattered along with screws, and bolts. while he played maxwell on his guitar, acrylic paint under his finger nails. I woke on the floor with a fuzzy purple throw blanket over me he was still in the same spot strumming and, smoking a beedie when the sun came up
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May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
Things
a tree did grow in Brooklyn. it was June-- our third-- and the summer weather hadn't turned yet: school was just out, Prospect Park was never full, and the nights were still cool. it was summer in the city before it comes unglued. i had yet to resent the F train terminal or its crowds or its sweat. i hadn't grown bored of 23rd St. on one end of the day and Church Avenue on another, or of the cost of cigarettes or coffee or of the FOODTOWN sign at the top of the subway steps. it was a beautiful month because it was doomed barely to last its 30 days. and there were too so many long hours, sitting barely shaded on your stoop, fending off the landlord's sister and the bugs and waiting for the fall. each time i've gone back since then i've sat on those slow steps; that summer it was no different: three months to crown three years, moving so timelessly by that next month the heat bore down, not the heat only of the sun and the air but the wet, ***** heat of the city, steam forever rising from underground, the oil spills in the gutters beginning to boil. but still it was New York and summer. the roaches and rats hadn't yet eaten all the fireflies. i grew to love routine disquiet: the long car rides to Queens, the Mets games and their pretzel smell and riding back, inevitably discouraged, my homemade tank top leaking Magic marker onto my chest; the trips to the beach at Rockaway, sullen and determined, and their return to Manhattan, tasting like salt (and you, once, like blood) and my hair stiff with brine and feeling the sand in our shoes grit against the ***** sidewalks; those quick walks from Smith&9th Streets, sipping Mexican Cokes and rationing our time by cigarettes: all of July was exhausting, but familiar by then. in August the tornado came, first Brooklyn'd seen in 30 years. we two slept blissfully through it, woke only for the aftermath. we went outside almost giddy, certainly unbelieving, holding hands. and the tree which had stood outside so serenly was uprooted, having missed the bedroom window by only a few feet. [it was June-- cool. barely shaded so timelessly beginning to boil all the fireflies.]
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Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 11:18 AM UTC
a tree did grow
a tree did grow in Brooklyn. it was June-- our third-- and the summer weather hadn't turned yet: school was just out, Prospect Park was never full, and the nights were still cool. it was summer in the city before it comes unglued. i had yet to resent the F train terminal or its crowds or its sweat. i hadn't grown bored of 23rd St. on one end of the day and Church Avenue on another, or of the cost of cigarettes or coffee or of the FOODTOWN sign at the top of the subway steps. it was a beautiful month because it was doomed barely to last its 30 days. and there were too so many long hours, sitting barely shaded on your stoop, fending off the landlord's sister and the bugs and waiting for the fall. each time i've gone back since then i've sat on those slow steps; that summer it was no different: three months to crown three years, moving so timelessly by that next month the heat bore down, not the heat only of the sun and the air but the wet, ***** heat of the city, steam forever rising from underground, the oil spills in the gutters beginning to boil. but still it was New York and summer. the roaches and rats hadn't yet eaten all the fireflies. i grew to love routine disquiet: the long car rides to Queens, the Mets games and their pretzel smell and riding back, inevitably discouraged, my homemade tank top leaking Magic marker onto my chest; the trips to the beach at Rockaway, sullen and determined, and their return to Manhattan, tasting like salt (and you, once, like blood) and my hair stiff with brine and feeling the sand in our shoes grit against the ***** sidewalks; those quick walks from Smith&9th Streets, sipping Mexican Cokes and rationing our time by cigarettes: all of July was exhausting, but familiar by then. in August the tornado came, first Brooklyn'd seen in 30 years. we two slept blissfully through it, woke only for the aftermath. we went outside almost giddy, certainly unbelieving, holding hands. and the tree which had stood outside so serenly was uprooted, having missed the bedroom window by only a few feet. [it was June-- cool. barely shaded so timelessly beginning to boil all the fireflies.]
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one more for five year old Ian he is the little boy, on an I-don't-want-to-go road trip, yet inside happily, pretense outward poutingly, yet he is nosed pressed straining onto window, so hard, it's window marked, stain leaving, absorbing, being absorbed by the fresh flowing of air currents of new scenery little boys of beauty, of beauty, what do they know? life is action figures, videos and toons, colors vivid but manufactured, daddy hanging them upside down, coloring books less than quaint, few museums bid then enter... how do they learn what needs remembering, celebrating... differentiating tween mundane profane and profound... some say there are pleasure chems, the brain releases when the San Fran sun contacts all flesh, when California coast surf beckons claiming splashing and attention demanding, when nature offers up mountain trails that insist one of any age climb her offerings, to make them "ours," if ever so briefly,. to be map marked upon cerebral tissues and leave the boy and the vistas neurally connected perpetually of these matters, I, no certainty possess, though I well recall my nose in that windowed position, the clarity of Atlantic Rockaway fresh salt breezes entering, being stored inside my five year old brain cloud, so it could be true what all the grandmothers claim! but this know with soul surety, there are few things more beautiful than a five year old boy, inhaling the passing scenery, redding his cheeks even more rosy... he, a painting, forever stored, summonable with a single blink of my mind's eye, perhaps this is how he will indeed learn too... May 16, 2015
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
little boys of beauty, of beauty, what do they know?
one more for five year old Ian he is the little boy, on an I-don't-want-to-go road trip, yet inside happily, pretense outward poutingly, yet he is nosed pressed straining onto window, so hard, it's window marked, stain leaving, absorbing, being absorbed by the fresh flowing of air currents of new scenery little boys of beauty, of beauty, what do they know? life is action figures, videos and toons, colors vivid but manufactured, daddy hanging them upside down, coloring books less than quaint, few museums bid then enter... how do they learn what needs remembering, celebrating... differentiating tween mundane profane and profound... some say there are pleasure chems, the brain releases when the San Fran sun contacts all flesh, when California coast surf beckons claiming splashing and attention demanding, when nature offers up mountain trails that insist one of any age climb her offerings, to make them "ours," if ever so briefly,. to be map marked upon cerebral tissues and leave the boy and the vistas neurally connected perpetually of these matters, I, no certainty possess, though I well recall my nose in that windowed position, the clarity of Atlantic Rockaway fresh salt breezes entering, being stored inside my five year old brain cloud, so it could be true what all the grandmothers claim! but this know with soul surety, there are few things more beautiful than a five year old boy, inhaling the passing scenery, redding his cheeks even more rosy... he, a painting, forever stored, summonable with a single blink of my mind's eye, perhaps this is how he will indeed learn too... May 16, 2015
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I went for a walk on a clammy november day yet hellishly warm for november The sky was a mystery off Rockaway The fish had all been dead all down the tracks in the sand leading to the drunk fishermen less drunk than the sky
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Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
haiku
The United States we stand tall_____* The ring-size The shebang seat Hasn't been anything but a ball just stand Or sit in my heat To the Senate falling for the Testimonies The culture of colliding ceremonies coming to America* Above the surface Delicious Atmosphere blue Nitrogenous* The new Bicentennial He cannot take his falling star eyes off of you his love ((Like Pluto)) dimensional Starbucks stir-spell stars She loves to sit casually Your feeling wiped out Being flagged down_____ All stripes the American way Bank of America Let's travel to ((Bombay)) No time to do your essays Be more sacred it pays Super America Stop eating the whole cow (U) night Ed) United We feel entangled What we believe in is lost Amazing in all sizes From head to toe from birth Trembling hands of fate We all fall down huh? Niagara Falls her-Ray Tall riveting sunshine King Charles charming French Cafe ring Henry the 8th carats Striking The finest grains in her cup to his Viking Artsy gals of the archway falling for your liking Milky Way We must not battle Broadway Falling out of love But they say its ((Your Birthday)) Have a good time On Flag day And star bright American to the Mediterranean Buffets for the Pig and whistle beauty met her eating beast Pirates of the Carribean American side dish Bacon bits with String beans Clerical positions ((Compromising Liaisons)) Fort Myers Pelicans Brooklyn Belt Parkway My exit was Rockaway Parkway Take me back Now this world Full of chemicals No time for even The Protocol Bewildered minds bifocals to vanish No food to love garnish We need to exhale American big day Male sale----I got my ring size seat*
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May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
Falling 4 Ring Size Seat
The United States we stand tall_____* The ring-size The shebang seat Hasn't been anything but a ball just stand Or sit in my heat To the Senate falling for the Testimonies The culture of colliding ceremonies coming to America* Above the surface Delicious Atmosphere blue Nitrogenous* The new Bicentennial He cannot take his falling star eyes off of you his love ((Like Pluto)) dimensional Starbucks stir-spell stars She loves to sit casually Your feeling wiped out Being flagged down_____ All stripes the American way Bank of America Let's travel to ((Bombay)) No time to do your essays Be more sacred it pays Super America Stop eating the whole cow (U) night Ed) United We feel entangled What we believe in is lost Amazing in all sizes From head to toe from birth Trembling hands of fate We all fall down huh? Niagara Falls her-Ray Tall riveting sunshine King Charles charming French Cafe ring Henry the 8th carats Striking The finest grains in her cup to his Viking Artsy gals of the archway falling for your liking Milky Way We must not battle Broadway Falling out of love But they say its ((Your Birthday)) Have a good time On Flag day And star bright American to the Mediterranean Buffets for the Pig and whistle beauty met her eating beast Pirates of the Carribean American side dish Bacon bits with String beans Clerical positions ((Compromising Liaisons)) Fort Myers Pelicans Brooklyn Belt Parkway My exit was Rockaway Parkway Take me back Now this world Full of chemicals No time for even The Protocol Bewildered minds bifocals to vanish No food to love garnish We need to exhale American big day Male sale----I got my ring size seat*
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