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Text of the page (random words):
ll he pulled out the camera he uses now a thin digital thing i keep a diary is how he explains it he takes picture every day and writes on the back what happened i asked what he does with them oh i keep them and when i m dead someone will find them and i ll be famous my coffee got cold he told me his name without asking mine we shook hands as if the conversation was over his friend spoke for the first time we should let you get to your drink my camera man nodded and then kept talking his leicas the war what did you do in the war it s dicey to ask a thing like that especially of a man who did time in vietnam but it was ok after all i was a dentist he said i took care of teeth i got back in what 1971 i was the east village dentist i hung out at the filmore east i knew them all dylan the velvets the poets he shrugged it s funny i was conservative but you had to dress like a hippie to get a date he pulled out a 40 year old id his hair long and shaggy the laminated plastic peeling up i am not the first person who has heard this story i knew everybody he said i knew ginsberg i took care of his teeth on the street published may 11 2012 uncategorized leave a comment i m out walking with the baby she is everyone s opening line rastaman walks up beside us happy mother s day he says his voice is beautiful the precision of his consonants against the long round vowels i thank him and then as if it were the most natural turn he asks you read this book million shades of blue or grey whatever it is i ve heard about it i m lying i read some of it over a shoulder on the subway i think it s sort of racy isn t it i was about to say dirty and thought better of it that s a different conversation racy is that what it is okay then and i don t know whether that interests him or closes the case rastaman wishes us well and lights out for the corner we are ambling me and the baby then he turns around again where would i find a book like this around here if i wanted to read it i point him toward the bookstore but he doesn t go that way editorial note upcoming book party and reading published september 2 2011 uncategorized leave a comment my publisher red lemonade is throwing a book party for follow me down everyone s invited words special red lemonade fizzys and music tuesday sept 6 7pm the bell house 149 7th street brooklyn i ll also be reading at sunny s in red hook on sept 11 at 3pm on the subway published february 14 2011 men 5 comments i squeeze in the middle seat next to a short round guy with doe eyes and a shaved head he adjusts a little but he s still got half my seat i m sorry he says in the gentlest voice i m getting off at the next stop and i m really uncomfortable and that s why i m still sitting like this all spread out it s okay i tell him i ve got enough room i ve turned and looked him in the eye i m smiling it s really all right for some reason i want him to know that he looks at me a minute you know i don t have a valentine and that s okay at my age i realize that love is my valentine just love you can share love with your family your aunt your brother your pet your cousin you can share it with everybody you can share my seat i tell him see it s beautiful right happy valentine s day he says rising toward the door as the train slows its way into the station at the corner published january 20 2011 danger 3 comments i m waiting to cross i ve been in motion brisk and zeroed in and now i m resentful of the involuntary halt like a good city person i take the extra step into the street to wait one pace closer to my goal eyes intent on the traffic light next to me is an old man a real classic in a rough tweed coat a fake fur collar gray scruff on his worn cheeks don t stand on that he says and points to the metal sewer grate my feet are planted on you might disappear this seems like an absurd proposition to me but i m conserving effort here so i thank him and step off to the side a bit that s better he s smiling now satisfied with his good deed you never know with this city you never know i might turn around and zoop you re gone in a cab published december 2 2010 casualties drivers 6 comments on the radio there s some talk show banter going on a new study says men who kiss their wives every morning live five years longer than the ones who don t the driver says to me i d kiss my wife every morning if she d let me he s got a sweet laugh a small guy bundled against the cold he touches his chin in fact this morning i told her this was her last chance to kiss my smooth cheek until summer i m gonna grow a beard to keep warm never had a beard before but i gotta do something i freeze in these cars did she kiss you yeah she s a good girl my wife we couldn t be more different she reads books all the time i don t touch the stuff i never even went to high school but somehow we get along real good we re driving along the river the traffic is slow i m watching his pitted face his shy smile i met her in the car a customer i picked her up by the hospital and we talked so much i forgot where i was supposed to be driving her she said that was alright we had breakfast the next couple mornings and then she moved in eight years he s on a roll now and i ve no inclination to stop him he s telling the kind of stories i always think the cabbies might be making up the kind that are a little too cute but i believe him i grew up over there he says pointing across the river to a row of project towers i started dealing drugs when i was 12 i tell you drugs gave me a good life i had money i went all over the world i went places i don t remember going but people tell me i was there then i had to get cleaned up my clock ran down so here i am i m doing ok i work people work this looks bitter on the page but he s not he is laughing his sweet laugh he is i find out later dying slowly of the things you would expect his liver he says but not his heart in the diner published november 18 2010 casualties leave a comment even in the diner it s cold i am alone with an hour to pass and the absence of connection which is to say i left my phone at home i sit here like my grandfather dunking a tea bag in a second pour of hot water i m reading a book of poems about hell and watching the lights of the cars passing by in the booth behind me a forlorn girl tells her friend everyone is getting married now on the subway published november 10 2010 oneiric 2 comments it s a fellini movie in here jammed with people who look like out of work carnies grown old that fat russian man with the thick neck he s the strong man i see the flowing orangey locks of a lion tamer he s reading the newspaper there s a stout woman with the sparkly makeup of the trapeze flyer but she s not swirling around the pole a man whose nose would need little addition to play the clown leans against the door one woman has a palsied face her lips and eyes outlined in black a bearded lady once certainly sitting across from me is a tall dark man his shaking hands holding a barker s top hat in his lap i know i m staring at them i am filled with wonder that might easily pass for rudeness the train grinds into the station and the bearded lady gets up to leave she leans down as she passes me and touches my face we were all beautiful once she says follow me down excerpt published october 5 2010 uncategorized 11 comments excerpt from follow me down by kio stark red lemonade june 2011 on sundays the whole neighborhood sleeps late there must have been rain at dawn for now the streets and the trees have taken on the darker hue and shimmer that the water leaves on their surfaces as it evaporates back into the sky all the colors are rich and saturated the peeling bark of the sycamore the green weeds the mangled red tricycle that sits on the curb awaiting the trashmen s visit i spool a roll of film into one of my old plastic toy cameras it s light and imprecise my cameras are a good excuse to see the neighborhood to stop and stare the camera opens a space for that and people always ask what i m doing they are puzzled generally by the antiquated equipment and the things they see me shooting the buildings and the places where the buildings used to be the surface of the canal lambent with marbled oil the trees and weeds overtaking the things man has left in his wake this morning i go first to the playground there s a young woman there who i know a little carlina she s tall and curvy and her clothes are always sculpted to set her roundness at best advantage even when she s in sweats as she is now she s watching her son who is in constant motion circling the playground and mounting its obstacles he s around 6 i think she waves you re taking pictures again what s up with that she asks me that every time she sees me with a camera at first i tried to explain i showed her some prints but that s not really what her questions are really about it s the meaningless but meaningful conversation of the street she is acknowledging me as familiar as a known quantity i return the gesture you guys are out early he s hit a new surge of testosterone or something if i don t take him out and run him in the morning he s hell all day long swings at everybody gets all pent up and sinks his teeth in another kid s arm jesus men you know take him out and run him like a dog or a horse i just nod then i have an idea i set the camera down on the flat edge of a bench and point it at the jungle gym the speeding boy i hold the shutter open for a long time maybe a minute the picture will be washed out with light the physical structures barely visible and the boy will be a blurred streak of motion pure energy and light i try it a few times varying the time the shutter is open the boy s mother turns away to take a phone call she seems uncomfortable tries to hustle the caller off the phone i m not in a good place to talk we re outside hold on she turns to me can you watch him i just have to deal with something she taps the phone ten minutes it s one of those kind of delicate matters you know no problem i tell her i load another roll of film and keep shooting the boy s flashing speed when she comes back he s hanging upside down from the monkey bars resting she hollers him over in the commanding tone of mothers and generals it works he drops down and trots to her side she waves at me thanks she says and turns quickly back into the tall housing project building she lives in i wait a while watching hoping for a rustle at a window that will show me which apartment is hers but nothing happens eventually i move on i loop through the neighborhood down by the canal and back when i get home my lover jimmy is sitting on the stoop he doesn t like phones he is undaunted by waiting i was in the neighborhood is what he says every time i find him like this it s a joke that s always funny he lives four blocks away he slides a hand around my calf as i climb the steps and stands up to follow me into the house i turn on the ceiling fans and a breeze picks up through the apartment from the kitchen s wide back windows out to the narrower ones overlooking the street in my living room a mosaic of photographs covers one long wall i add a few new ones every week or so and i shuffle them around reworking the schemes seeing which rules make better compositions jimmy stands in front of the wall now giving it his fullest scrutiny you changed it it s by dominant color he observes pointing at the wall the greens of the plants the gray of the fences and the empty buildings the red of the bricks and the rust i think it s too much i say too much how too obvious i step back and consider the wall a moment i don t like the workings of my mind to be so easy to guess but that s only part of my discomfort you don t see the pictures anymore just a field of color it blinds the eye to detail never any people jimmy says it s not the first time he s observed this and he s pleased with himself people are only interesting to me in motion i tell him but that s not really why this is about a world without people at all after people that s what all these are i tell him i m pacing now in front of the wall pointing caught up in my own convictions these are the ruins we leave behind the foolish pride of our skyscrapers and our factories left empty and grown over with weeds jimmy sits down on the couch while i m talking and looks up at me a little confused a little smitten they re pictures of impermanence he says working it out you re taking pictures of an idea i chose jimmy because i thought he was someone else a nice guy who plays guitar and doesn t think too hard about things i had him all wrong and that complicates my hours with him in a way that makes me shrink into myself i suppress the uneasy feeling by kneeling down and unzipping his pants one night i get home from work in the late evening carlina is down on the corner in a bathing suit and shorts her waist like the curve of a guitar she s fanning herself with a newspaper and talking to julio a short guy who watches over the corner he s got a big belly an incongruous handlebar mustache he s always smiling but i don t buy it at all now there s music playing softly from someone s open window julio and carlina wave at me as i stand in the doorway shuffling through the mail there s an envelope that doesn t belong here it s to hombre cinco and it isn t my address i look closer it s dirty the stamp is years out of date the canceling marks are illegible now there s no way to know when it was mailed it looks as though it were rescued from the dungeon of a dead letter office i should give it back to the postman but i don t the address on the envelope isn t far away a few blocks down by the canal just off the industrial street where the whores walk at night i have to wait until morning by the time i get out the door the next day julio s already watching the corner under cover of the burnt out store s fiberglass awning hello mami he calls out you go to work just a walk i tell him i don t like to linger with julio he starts asking questions who is my boyfriend and do i need any help around the house i hurry down the street that fronts the canal the address i m looking for is on a stub of a street half a block long cut short by the canal and a yellow diamond sign that says simply end there s a sofa near the drooping fence that borders the canal a man rises from it and staggers up to me look at that face i m gonna marry you i m gonna buy you an apart no a house gonna get a job go back to school okay okay i say backing away from the sour stink of him there s no one else around even julio is too far away to help me the man keeps walking muttering to himself he lurches away toward the empty park when he s out of sight i turn back to the little street one side is the solid wall of a warehouse casement windows behind cast iron cages the other side has three little townhouses with ugly siding dirty white hospital green mud brown i count the house numbers where a fourth would be at the...