Superimposition

Superimposition
 
 a freeactionary poem
about an imaginary city
West of where I
presently (re)ply

    for/ Anselm Berrigan

"look, up in the sky..."

 

 "... give up verse, my boy,

There’s nothing in it." -- E.P.

facing the wall

or what's left of it, the pissing floor

rises the glee-club of the gutter

& the ganja breakers

flare pockets of their hoodies

not in Gulhani but Gorlitzer

where wild roses over-hang the canal

the crossroad query of mental jogging

goes unabated & the circus of blood

pumps up to the surface of the clock-face

in the window beside the Ecke

where a machete hews kebab.

we take black olives & flat-bread

at Maibach Ufer, plan the half-day of sun,

rolled and smoked then sat on the lawn

by the Spree without knowing

how many films, like soap-bubbles,

had been shot there, tap of the toes,

there's no place like home

and the bottle already

floating downstream submarine

periscope up, look at the sky

which is grey like bone, motionless,

picture of nowhere

everybody knows 

 

May 8, 2018

 

 

 

Berlin 2016, jeff gburek, famous mistakes with ghosts