Author Archives: wrenImage Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image Image
did you know that alligators live in the nyc subway system?
joyce hackett knew and so did amy vaillancourt.
vaillancourt made her way to new york.
she bought a ticket into the subway.
she began the waiting game.
new shoes? new pet?
few are ever sure of the intentions of amy until they have already become fruitful realizations.
fallen camera rises again
arrival of the salted summer month
in this wind and wake
on this beaming bow
on this life to take
in the last warm month
you salt excess fish
you’re brown and restless
keen to any wish
it’s the sought out height
oh the hearts thunder
you capture your light
for winter’s plunder
if you seek a body a water
to cool your feathers,
you may run into amy
and her pet duck, toes.
they never leave each others side.
often, in pursuit of a sitting pond,
they must resort to hoping fences
and illegally quenching their thirsts.
every night i slept with mr. schuster between my legs, like a preggers with a body pillow.
when the cancerous mr. schuster died, i didn’t tell his wife about my teddy. mr. schuster and i were too close, i didn’t want to share.
after high school mr. schuster and i parted ways. he wasn’t interested in university and even though i wasn’t either, i decided to go, in montreal.
i went to visit mr. schuster recently and he took me out to meet his friends.
it was a pretty wild night.
and find out it has been replaced by a condo
don’t cry in the rain
climb walls that outline a distant castle
a castle so far it is only in your mind
you can hide in the grass
romp in dandelion dander
loiter by highways
and all this will make you feel as grand as any ruined castle ruins
Friday May 6
hand crafted cider, photography, vertical gardens, sculptures, paintings
1 broken neck
1 excellent photographer
1 piece of translucent plastic
1 vanessa visit
it remains one of my favorite weekend routines, to fetch the sunday paper and something fresh for breakfast. then i lounge around in the early morning to read and wonder about the world, until people wake up and get excited to do things.
the ‘coon, the skateboard, the buildings, the photos, the beers, the cheeses, the walks, the dances, the sunshine, the queen of sheba cake, the softly boiled eggs, the brunch, the market, the apple, the ride, the crackers, the pate, the shore side.
my heart, your junk
and then across the farm point bridge.
Frankie lays watch on an eerie untouched hill
each rusting souvenir, chest forward, head strong,
remains unmovable, proud and lost, in Alcove.