plume now scratches the screen at

{Wednesday, March 31, 2004}

pluming@ in new york. . .

Plume in spring, without ripe plumbs.
Plume in new york, fell on featherdown.
Flight 1195, half an hour delay. In preparation for a crash landing hold your head between your knees and shelter it with your arms.
The manual switch functions at the last moment, the latch opens and the airplane lands on all four (wheels).
Dormir dans les dortoirs.
Sharon, friend of a friend…, keeps her door unlocked day and night to allow free passage to a stranger.
David Kirschenbaum, “the tall guy over there, with a backpack, about to leave,” doesn’t know who i am because i hardly look like my emails. Five minutes later, David assumes the planning functions with the efficiency of a ship captain.
In lieu of postpriandial encores, the statue of liberty holding two torches.
If you don’t have one, you are still in the dark ages.
The dark ages.
The torch, edited by Aaron Kiely & inflamed by D. Kirschenbaum (aka, the cherry tree, in bloom), Amy Lipkin, Matvei Yankelevich*, Eileen Myles, Emily Roysdon, and Joni Mitchell.
Eileen Myles was a discovery. Read Eileen in the skies or don’t read at all.
Aaron Kiely plays two musical instruments: guitar (veiled in black when silent) & industrial stapler (silver and black, nude at all times). The stapler is the mouthpiece of the torch and a conversation piece.
The Ukrainian waiter at Veselka doesn’t want a torch.
Perhaps he doesn’t smoke.
Veselka is crowded around ten pea am & for a reason: its rice pudding is sans pareil.
New York City has the best trash in the world.
I have half furnished the room I don’t have.
Edna St. Vincent Millay inhabited the narrowest house in New York. It was as wide as bright arrows, Nathaniel Siegel tells me, it span from here to there, less half that window.
It takes two and a half to spin the cubic wish outside the Astor station.
Will I spoil the wish if I say that it involves fur?
You are walking in Auden’s footsteps in Millay’s footsteps in Whitman’s footsteps in …
Have you thought about that?
- N.S.

Eduardo runs the poetry slam at Mount Sinai School of Medicine.
Medical textbooks are full of poetry, he says.
At the Locating Love conference (CUNY), the paper panels’ common thread is often quixotic and the readings resemble a ball game played by blindfolded children, spun into vertigo, endowed with a ball each, and aiming at a non-existent basket.
Hackman Subdivider fell asleep at the back of the room but woke up in time to hear me speak of René Char’s lamps.
Belladonna is a fantastic creature and her picture can be found in an edition of Ambrose Bierce’s Devil’s Dictionary sitting by the register at Gotham’s.
Déjà-vu by the Washington Square: so faint, I think it refers to the future.
Bicycles on stilts, one-wheelers, roller-blades, bicycles without seats, racing bicycles, tandems, lady’s bicycles, bicycles with baskets, baskets with children in them, with books in them, with baguettes in them, parading down the avenue.
Am St. El
Small Press Fair was
a disappointment.
Susanna Cuyler was an amazing encounter. Look for her Ubiquarian’s Dictionary, Survival Manual. Jane Owen’s: A Pictorial Biography equally caught my eye.
A lot of sewing goes on upstairs, Organ Needles are used and Confection Co. mannequins.
A group of Finns from the Fair to the Bowery.
Have you ever lent your ear to the radiators?
If you give a street musician a dollar in New York, the chances are, when you go broke seven hours later, you’ll run into him again, and he’ll offer you twenty.
Jim Behrlesqued at Zinc. Zinc barbar. What face in your window. Mistake light and left and you'll have sushi.
I did without, but
should you see Ivan from Cuba play on the guitar somewhere underground,
drop a buck into his hat.
". . . is worse than your bite,"
- D.K.

Statue of Liberty looks sexy at midnight.
Ferry queen runs over no speed bumps.
Speed is the modern nomad. Catch him in Chicago in April as he surrealizes the city.
The first elevator shaft was horizontal, he tells me.
And I believe him.
At Strand, Mark Strand was found on the floor.
I refuse to exhaust the pun.
Anyway, it’s all true.
Leather gloves caress each other on the fire hydrant.
Strangely small from this angle.

This blog’s : P r o p e r N a m e s : Anagrams
New York City :: Icy Y-Network
David Kirschenbaum :: Hackman Subdivider
Aaron Kiely :: Oak Inlayer
Eileen Myles :: Enemies Yell
Veselka :: Save Elk
Nathaniel Siegel :: Alienate English
Edna St. Vincent Millay :: Deviancy Installment
Mount Sinai School of Medicine :: Anecdotic Moonfish Limousine**
Locating Love :: Cleaving Tool
René Char :: Écharner
Ambrose Bierce :: A Microbe’s Beer
Devil’s Dictionary :: Silvery Addiction
Washington Square :: Antique Rags Shown
Susanna Cuyler :: Unlace Sunrays
Organ Needles :: Long Serenade
Bowery Poetry Center :: NYC Tee-Bow Repertory
Speedology :: Lodge Poesy
Statue of Liberty :: Statutory Belief
Jim Behrle Show :: Oh, Herb Slew Jim

@pluming, i said, pluming, not plumbing.

*Any relation to Vladimir Yankelevich, the French psychoanalyst?
**Mount Sinai School of Medicine is full of anagrams, potentially unexhaustible: Uncalcified Moonish Emotions is what I found.

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