Walking Around Brooklyn With Elizabeth

Balloon Cats

Uh...

Jessica Hopper posted this one over at her blog: http://tiny.abstractdynamics.org (it's one of my favorite blogs)

I couldn't resist doing the same:

You Have a Nice Smile (I Promise)

I put the caulk
in the hamper
with the baby shampoo
and the frozen milk sequins
that you love to throw
at the tourists.
By the time you get
home tonight there will
be another blackout
sitting on the couch
with a stern look
of no-electric toys.
The track is banked
which adds a sense
of elegance to the
rec room. You have
a nice smile
I promise not
to bite into it
until tomorrow.

Captain Beefheart

May I just say what a great goddamn record Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band made when they recorded "Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)" Really. I mean, do yourself a favor & download the songs "Candle Mambo" or "Owed T'Alex" or "Tropical Hotdog Night" and call me in the morning. Come out and meet the monster tonight.

Hum & Grind

The slow machines hum
while electric blue light
flickers on my pants. How
the machines work: they work better
than us, thank you. My thoughts are with you
as I construct this earthy masking tape rake.
The angry falcon is in the van with our
hero. Under the seat is a stash of chicory
and ash. Let the bird eat my face for lunch.
I work in a metal box:
the root of my longing
is longing enough.

I'm Reading Philip Whalen...

when a rush of well-being comes over me. These occurrences -- while reading -- have been rare of late. Right now I would settle for a simple bit of steady state okay-ness or a feeling of perspective on the world and life that included the finality of it all -- not to be confused with a sense of doom, which is always lurking -- but of the demagnified look our day-to-day problems have in the context of a whole life trying to be well-lived.

Salute

In the bright air
a plastic knife
purple on his side
from slapping
a red flower
on his leg
from dancing
there is almost
always typhoid
in a body of water
near the suburbs.

Baltic Street Sundown

Lewis Looking Puzzled & Pissed

Words You Won't Remember

A piece of paper printed with the silvery image
of the Prince of Dells. Fuck it! All the
expensive paint tints the sky as piggies plunge into
their bread and cheese snacks. I'm managing a pen
that works now. Mint and crisp night in tight circles,
bronze loops; all of us hum the tune of our own demise.
I was startled when you spanked the air
from my face. You left the imprint of
your ruby ring on my cheek. Flared at the end
from wax and amber oil, I'm a stumbler. A real
floater in deep perfumed water. My goodness!
The spasm of the new day. My goodness! I
missed you. Your brittle games are really cool
and good for most living things.
The animals are getting lighter with blinking
light in them. Thank You! I know you know
I know you won't remember any of this.

Noreen

Early in my Plight

In my early plight I felt my indecision to be a saddle
so when the stitching grew larger than the leather
it was holding together my arm encased
in green jelly. I was riding triumphantly until I
remembered it was early in my plight.
I still had a ways to go before moving
into the delicate clime of humid oxfords
and orchid lust. My heart beat maximally.
Now I see your pink breasts on the stitching
of a saddle-- I even see them when I eat ice meat.
Standing in the rain, wet streets, a blue umbrella--
it all felt so novel, like a movie with faces
blaring the need for some past infringement,
rising up to smack me. Still the hour passes
even as the gate puller pulls the gate down
and says excuse me in such a polite and gentle
manner that it feels pleasurable moving out of his way.
Seeking nothing but a last glance
while turning around again to say good luck.
Only an arm, the turn of the coat, your hair
a faint flash in the slap happy streets
of daring Brooklyn, Hedda Gabler, Burritos,
my life now moving home.

Three

Birthday

Today is my birthday
so I took the day off
to ride my bike
up to Nyack
with a friend.

It's also nice to
share the same birthday
(June 13th)
with Fernando Pessoa
and W.B. Yeats.
So happy birthday
to them too.

Love,
Todd

Smoldering Monarch & Tired Todd

While stuck in traffic on the way home from Maryland I spotted this restaurant and snapped a quick photo as we lurched by. Brendan Lorber called moments later and I told him about the name of the restaurant to which he replied in classic Lorber-fashion: "I always like my monarchs to be smoldering."

Here I am: tired, sunburned, dazed, crazed & stuck in the 4th or 5th traffic jam while listening to LCD Soundsystem on the way home to NYC:

PS I finished the Eagleman Half-Ironman in 4:49:30, beating my time of last year by 12 minutes. I'm tired and sore today.

Eagleman Half-Ironman: Right On!

On Sunday, June 10th, I have my first race of the season down in Maryland. It's called the Eagleman Half-Ironman. It'll be my second time doing this race which has a brutally choppy swim, and a flat, windy, shadeless and hot bike and run course. I'll be doing it as part of my preparation for my 4th Ironman race up at Lake Placid on July 22nd. Today I did a sort of a dress rehearsal, riding and running all over Brooklyn like some sort of lycra-clad jackass. In the context of a triathlon I fit right in, but in Brooklyn, New York...well...at one point while I was on my bike coming back from Prospect Park, a redneck in a truck with Georgia plates called me a fag as he drove past me--I just smiled, waved and yelled "right on brother, right on!"

Here are some photos of my day today:

My Black Beauty:

Testing out the wetsuit fit before the ride:

Jackass!

Donna was a liar

Metallic

It makes sense that a body would ache after it gets burned. That part seems pretty clear to me. What I don't understand is the notion that a balloon full of helium could help me float away from it. It won't, so stop asking me to float away.

Bergen Street Art by T & E

Scold and Proof

I brought coffee to the lawn
to boost the air -- but it browned
the sod meat and removed the green
leaving us crestfallen and vacant --
but only momentarily. Remember:
Dirty longing, while traceable to a fleck of lust,
distributes hormones that are known
to cure asthma and melt sugar.
It's a mud puddle out there in the forest
of metal objects. We work very
hard to get enough engines
to draw milk from oil,
pluck kink, and outline
a stranger's face in goldenrod
before filling it in with mascara.
You should know these things
when I bring them to you
to scold and proof.

Before I forget: I really love the new light
that I'm seeing you in.

Elizabeth & Her Flowers