What A Good Way To Use The Space (Capacity Pt. 7)

What A Good Way To Use The Space (Capacity Pt. 7)

Remember that one time when your world was changed forever? Like literally. Do you remember when the landscape shifted forever? I do. I was seven.  I think. Let’s say I was seven. Well, let me say I was seven, you can say whatever you want when it’s your turn to speak. So, like I was saying before I interrupted myself, I can remember when the tallest building in town went up. It was crazy. Completely bonkers. Everybody was there for the grand opening. We just wanted to see it up close. We wanted to be in it. We wanted to take a look out on our town and see towns far way. We wanted to see the sky on the sky’s level.

Well, I was kid so that’s how I thought about it. I can’t really speak for anybody else and I did sort of have to drag my parents out to see it.  They weren’t too into it. Maybe they knew how it was going to be filled up below the observation decks. Maybe they knew just what this really meant for the town. This was just one of the many steps towards avoiding the capacity. It was a gamechanger for sure but it was and still is a marvel to behold. It’s like some serious Neo-Tokyo Akira-type shit. Fucking fascinating. I like the idea of living in a comic book town. I love our little manga streets. It’s what makes this town so special to me it. It’s totally Metropunk.

But, the one weird thing about this town is the parking. There really isn’t any. I’m no Joni Mitchell and I’m pretty sure I’d know paradise if it was paved and it hasn’t been which is sort of odd. I mean for having such big structure where are all the cars? I’m a walker. My whole family is. We’re some serious pedestrian folks. And when I’m not walking I’m running. I like the ground beneath my feet but I digress. I mean, I like a tangent. For me, it’s very street. It’s all about turning corners and crossing. To get off topic is to switch lanes or something like that which brings me back to the parking lot situation. Let’s merge back into what I’m trying to talk about. Ok,now I’m done.

So, where are the parking lots? Where do the cars go? And, now I have that Arcade Fire song stuck in my head – No Cars Go:

“We know a place where no planes go
We know a place where no ships go
No cars go
No cars go
Where we know

We know a place where no spaceships go
We know a place where no subs go
No cars go”

But seriously folks, I might be a bit conspiratorial but there’s something strange about a place without parking. Am I right? And yet, I love that building. I still see it with those seven year old eyes. It’s something special and besides, what else were we going to do with the space?


Unspoken Undesired

These very words carry a grudge against themselves

Crashing on their  own ears with bad decisions in tow awaiting the rebuttal of a thousand foreign tongues

Meteor showers off in space somewhere between this desk and light years away with all those sci-fi heroes, guns, sabres, and phasers set to stun

Nothing is drunk to health anymore but friends and the future and some left for those spirits too young to know better than to mistake secrets for wishes and prayers

Hand in hand with whatever landed this pen here with thoughts unspoken and undesired venturing deep (enough) within looking for Virgil but falling for another

To Blisters

Sleep was just another part of life in this neighborhood. This time of night/day souls were at rest. Nothing left to say that couldn’t be told to dreams.




Passive transgressive.


All insults to the inanimate ignored until noon under blue background, fading snores, cloudy hopes.

Impaled wishes. Lost. Darkness distilled. Dense, concentrated. Hooked to, into, movement of sun pressing itself to self as likeness is distorted. Turning away from light. Rays which change seed to bud. Lakes to desert. Skin to blisters.

At A Time – A Place Raised for Brooklyn


swamps sink

back into earth –

bring together

something which wants

to be known

– fragile yet gripping


at threshold

of concrete

bent to lean

against its womb.


Floors made no decisions

for how to exile


from concepts

of colonialists

set to make a city

where water was

separating strength

of lands

a grassy strand

at a time.



Become Fixed

Don’t get over anyone except as the sun

gets over the earth

and feet over dirt

and dirt

with its understanding

of the core’s need for distance.

Entering the cities, ramps run from above

skyways down into

the heart where

finances are done

And beneath, subways push ideas from

the limbs

back to the center

And for lunch, cooling oil greases vinegar

which melts salt, spreads pepper

into the tomato seeds

loosening on lettuce

protecting meat sleeping on half roll

the other half lowered fast

with poppy seeds

firm in desire

to become fixed to teeth.