(Unfinished) Business, by Jeff Glovsky, Works in Progress, Writing

The Good People of 23rd Street

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Four A.M.

Fellatial solace … Gloved in blowjob hands of peace.  My streets are live, they pulse in code!  With secret winks and messages which say they’re only dozing … ’cause Manhattan never sleeps, of course, but rests sometimes like I can’t.

Away downtown, my Christ Times Square!  I’m photographing homeless people … Hungry, pissed-off, out there types and heinous Zero Overpaids (the problems and solutions which extinct each other daily).  And the sex and drugs and nightlife crawling bat-like into slumber, as the morning breeze begins to hum and day begins to blow …

Down further still, Sixth Avenue, the flower shops are singing.  Winking wide and hurling deft, stout orders all about … There’s trucks and vans a-hum and squeaking … racist, pig-thunk news shows splitting wounded, AM air … and garbage trucks and window men, and newspaper delivery vans.

A breakfast cart still further down, a little queue of mendicants:  it pants, and wants its daily bread.  A giant box of rolls is rent, a bag of bagels buttered …

There’s clouded, waking sky for contrast, sunning up these bloodshot souls …

I’m safe and all at home here, wizened friend to their old scene.

(night) notes from CENTRAL PARK

by Jeff Glovsky

more Word(s) in Progress
Compendium: Selections from
Underwear Woman Digs the Sea

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