by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

New (Dis)Contents

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Will you really stare, my love?


Coffee Sounds

Underground… feeling heat in the furious subway.  Flipping through a candy rack and trying not to deal.  I buy a pack of gum and turn to see what kind of juice there is.

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I steal her soul, but it’s not exploitation.


Safe Already

They climb aboard at 49th Street.  “Moe” and his two stooge companions, rocking the train with loud, garrulous poses…

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In 2003, Le Spleen de Paris became the bowels of New York and northern New Jersey … and Slice / Life (annoyances, episodes) was scrawled.

Slice / Life

by Jeff Glovsky
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(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

contact Jeff Glovsky

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by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

Old Is New(ish)

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Untitled

  Writing on Medium

by Jeff Glovsky

Several decades ago— before our Facebook, cut and paste, “open-source” world — there were older siblings … also scribbling … pos(t)ing dreamily, into Barnes & Noble “journals” the size of granny panties, or contributing to Fray.

It’s All About Me(dium)

Not long after I penned my ode to the beauty and simplicity, and read-generator, which was Medium — it all fell away … Medium 2.0 seems to be nothing more than another tired social network: aggressively encouraging “likes” … encouraging peanut gallerists to chime in …

From Medium to Middling

Swimming through the noise I cannot place, the curt, intrusive bleats — unbeautiful, like summer in a land-locked foreign country, or a desert… or a pounding rain — (an) army sucks and splashes past, hoof-thund’ring toward cerise horizon.

Bad Olives (or, I Hit My Head)

I think of the ‘ones who got away’ sometimes … those fleeting passengers through my life, who wouldn’t have reason to think of me, but nonetheless made their impressions felt and registered on my akasha.

October Song

There’s a guy on the ground, with a boot in his back: “Release me!” the guy’s yelling up, in English, to a man in green, one of Bavaria’s Finest. “Bullenschweine!” (the guy’s switched to German) … “Sofort!” he shouts to the boot in his back (and the cop’s deaf ears). “Release me!” he Englishes again, “Immediately!

The Bavarian cop presses down in a Schuhplattler.

nicht by Jglo

(A) Time and Place

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by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

Observance (Rituals)

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They lean in … They’re too close to each other.  Yet not close enough.  There’s something off.

In pretty red, dressed like a Valentine’s Day, she’s all smiles, commanding attention and swaying … He leans in and keens, like a friendship example, and jokes that he’s handsome while screaming a little …

The volume of the music increases, in tune with his voice and the swaying of her body in the Valentine’s dress.  And the wine flows, red, white and nobody’s blue.

From the snowstorm steps an embarrassed Yeti; getting warm as he stamps off his feet, and beard … underneath which he’s red-faced, alone on this day.

No one cares, though!  Least of all, all of the others:  the Valentine’s dress and the keening example, and me, alone also, enjoying this day …


TGI

from Slice / Life (annoyances, episodes)
by Jeff Glovsky

The shouts continue.

“Extra caramel macchiato!”.  “Grande, triple latte chai!”.  “A ‘skinny’ decaf Frap, light ice!”.

“…three ‘pumps’, with extra ‘room’ please?”

And nobody’s embarrassed!

All these selfish inhalations, spoiled preferences, demands.  How do they purge themselves?  Expel such waste?

The stupid, herd-like slobs!  All waiting docilely in line for “coffee”…filling up the popcorn store (…a ‘popcorn store’!), the yogurt shops…

Thank God I date alone.

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by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Works in Progress, Writing

Unwritten

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No Babies

Jeff Glovsky / Photo of Jglo

* * *

I’ll start it!  I’ll start the dance!

Fish twist and wish

to be connected.  Primal

tappings into something longing

as the two of us.

Sustained piss shiver, poison throat,

and need.  Quake, flop

and sway a little…Heed the drum

and feed the Hunger flaming

up your Soul …

Conga
by Jeff Glovsky

 

I threw a Poem

and no one came …

 

At the beginning of January,  I posted a few unfinished Random Poetix, and invited participation in adding a line or two.  Though a few of you “liked” this, I only heard silence … There was not one WordSpeak-ing …

So I’ve added my own lines … I play with myself!

* * *

doodle, doodle #1)

certitudes, loud ‘certainties’,

across love covered, self-righteous

breakfast tables

you and I fornever

always


#2)

I’ve woke up broke

before

but not broken

beneath

broken promises,

furious eyes


#3)

In the slice knife that is

A.M., I cut through

to get my things done

Cross Raspail, boulevard Leclerc

I fax a note to dear old Dad …

* * *

Feel free to contribute still …

&

Always be a poet, even in prose.

– Charles Baudelaire

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by Jeff Glovsky, Poetry, Writing

Virginity

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because you never forget your First

Random Poetix
Anger

Subway’s down there
Hear it comin’
Just been mugged
Suspect runnin’

Don’t know why
I was beat up
Kicked my cane
Stole my cup

Got no money now
Can’t buy booze
Got no future
Got no shoes

Make me want
to kill somebody
Mold they bones
like Silly Puddy

If I’m caught
I might confess
Go to jail
Kill da rest

(1987)

by Jeff Glovsky

inspired by

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

Quick Ones (While She’s Away)

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doodles and sketches

In the least green, meanest

streets of the city, trees

preen, praying for

respiration


I remember the hugs I

used to give her;

remember

the love

we would shudder and

be in


Still feel

the warmth of

her body and sighs;

still drown, when

I tap my mind’s eye, in

her eyes


Together is how I still wish

to remain

with, inside, her.

Outside

is unbearable

pain.

more Random Poetix in the Members Lounge;
and other unfinished business

by Jeff Glovsky
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