Remember that snowy night we went to a party in Bed Stuy? We cross dressed. We confessed. We digressed. Your name was Roxanne and Jasmine and Shealah. After some local freaks shoveled your car out of its parallel parking spot at three am (I had given them two twenties and wondered if that was enough), I invited you back to the Upper West Side where we climbed the dog shitty snow piles while we talked about girl bands and poetry and Mediterranean cuisine. We laughed and felt each other shake with my arm looped around your bruised elbow. I called you my African Queen. You said you wanted to dominate a white girl. Soon, morning broke over Central Park, spreading its warm curves over our roof deck. We sipped champagne, and you told me the truth. Your real name was Naomi Yvonne Carr. I screamed your name with joy, "Naomi Yvonne Carr!" And the sweet sound stirred over the snow drifts covering the parked cars on 73rd Street (We had re-named it Seventy Turd Street). You told me you were homeless. Your father disowned you and his grandchildren. Your men all left you broken and blue. Where are you now, Namoi? You still sipping cold coffee at the Galaxy Diner on Ninth Avenue, waiting for Paul Auster to leave his gorgeous wife for you? You know he would if he got one whiff of your bliss balmy fragrance. You'd set him to thinking. Because how a homeless woman with four children can keep herself smelling like jasmine flowers is still a deep mystery to me.
I never told you the truth. To this day, I do not know whose apartment that was on the Upper West Side. I was just grateful, that freezing cold night, those conveniently absent tenants had forgotten to lock their door.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Radiate
We the people radiate. The warrior rebels radiate. The masses radiate. The monarchs radiate. The refugees radiate. The Resting radiate. The survivors radiate. The spectators radiate. The reporters radiate. The rock stars radiate. The investors radiate. The infirm radiate. The poor radiate. The performers radiate. The oilmen radiate. The oppressed radiate. The diplomats radiate. The despots radiate. The healthy radiate. The hateful radiate. The envious radiate. The envied radiate.
Wonder why, when children cry, we say of them that they are having a “melt down.”
Children radiate. Naughty children radiate. Nice children radiate.
Earth pulses one warm, global Radiation Nation.
Yes! Keep radiating, raiding, rationing, reckoning, wrecking, wreaking, working, weeping, rocking, remembering, rolling, roiling, wrestling, rat racing, reducing, reusing, recycling, reeling, repeating, retching, rescuing, worrying, weighing, warring, worshipping, writing, risking, reveling, running, and readying for Rest.
You radiate. You radiate. You radiate!
Wonder why, when children cry, we say of them that they are having a “melt down.”
Children radiate. Naughty children radiate. Nice children radiate.
Earth pulses one warm, global Radiation Nation.
Yes! Keep radiating, raiding, rationing, reckoning, wrecking, wreaking, working, weeping, rocking, remembering, rolling, roiling, wrestling, rat racing, reducing, reusing, recycling, reeling, repeating, retching, rescuing, worrying, weighing, warring, worshipping, writing, risking, reveling, running, and readying for Rest.
You radiate. You radiate. You radiate!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Mama O'Rama
Mama O'Rama has ten children.
She knows exactly what to do
When Mama O'Rama's baby cries, Mama O'Rama rocks him back to sleep in the family heirloom rocking chair.
When Little Buck complains he needs a playmate, Mama O'Rama plays Trainwreck with one hand and rocks her baby back to sleep.
When Becky needs some money, Mama O'Rama reaches in her purse to jingle some change with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other hand, and rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Benny needs a diaper change, Mama O'Rama stomps down her foot and uses her nimble toes to change the diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other hand, and rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bonnie needs to eat dinner, Mama O'Rama stomps down her second foot and uses her nimble toes to stir fry some veggies, stomps down the first foot to change Benny's diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other, all while she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Billy asks for help with homework, Mama O'Rama quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down one foot to cook, stomps down the other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bart asks for a ride to the movies, Mama O'Rama says, "No."
When Bessy needs help getting dressed, Mama O'Rama grows hairy, wild-thing arms out of the top of her head, (Lucky for Mama O'Rama, these two huge, muscular, beastly, lovey dovey, teddy bear, busy strongman arms grow straight out of the top of her head whenever she may need them. It's quite convenient and reliable but doesn't allow her to wear pretty hats!). With these hairy arms, Mama O'Rama buttons silver buttons down Bessy's back, says, "No ride to the movies," quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down her one foot to cook, stomps down her other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse to jiggle change with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bella needs to hide behind her for protection, Mama O'Rama spreads her wings to cover the girl from the pouring rain, uses her hairy arms to fasten silver buttons, says, "No ride to the movies," quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down her one foot to cook, stomps down her other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Buzz needs a shoulder to cry on, Mama O'Rama offers both of hers, spreads her wings to cover Bella from the pouring rain, uses her hairy arms to fasten Bessy's buttons, says, "No ride to the movies," quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down her one foot to cook dinner, stomps down the other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse to jiggle change with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other hand as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bernard asks Mama O'Rama if she needs some help, Mama O'Rama says, "Yes. Please."
Mama O'Rama thinks it somewhat disconcerting that she has had to give birth nine more times before Bernard, her first born, finally offered to lend her a hand.
She gave birth nine more times just to teach Big Brother Bernard a good, solid life lesson, and do you know what?
Mama O'Rama is certain that she showed him.
She knows exactly what to do
When Mama O'Rama's baby cries, Mama O'Rama rocks him back to sleep in the family heirloom rocking chair.
When Little Buck complains he needs a playmate, Mama O'Rama plays Trainwreck with one hand and rocks her baby back to sleep.
When Becky needs some money, Mama O'Rama reaches in her purse to jingle some change with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other hand, and rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Benny needs a diaper change, Mama O'Rama stomps down her foot and uses her nimble toes to change the diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other hand, and rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bonnie needs to eat dinner, Mama O'Rama stomps down her second foot and uses her nimble toes to stir fry some veggies, stomps down the first foot to change Benny's diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other, all while she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Billy asks for help with homework, Mama O'Rama quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down one foot to cook, stomps down the other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bart asks for a ride to the movies, Mama O'Rama says, "No."
When Bessy needs help getting dressed, Mama O'Rama grows hairy, wild-thing arms out of the top of her head, (Lucky for Mama O'Rama, these two huge, muscular, beastly, lovey dovey, teddy bear, busy strongman arms grow straight out of the top of her head whenever she may need them. It's quite convenient and reliable but doesn't allow her to wear pretty hats!). With these hairy arms, Mama O'Rama buttons silver buttons down Bessy's back, says, "No ride to the movies," quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down her one foot to cook, stomps down her other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse to jiggle change with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bella needs to hide behind her for protection, Mama O'Rama spreads her wings to cover the girl from the pouring rain, uses her hairy arms to fasten silver buttons, says, "No ride to the movies," quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down her one foot to cook, stomps down her other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Buzz needs a shoulder to cry on, Mama O'Rama offers both of hers, spreads her wings to cover Bella from the pouring rain, uses her hairy arms to fasten Bessy's buttons, says, "No ride to the movies," quizzes Billy on spelling, stomps down her one foot to cook dinner, stomps down the other foot to diaper, reaches in her purse to jiggle change with one hand, plays Trainwreck with the other hand as she rocks Baby Buddy back to sleep.
When Bernard asks Mama O'Rama if she needs some help, Mama O'Rama says, "Yes. Please."
Mama O'Rama thinks it somewhat disconcerting that she has had to give birth nine more times before Bernard, her first born, finally offered to lend her a hand.
She gave birth nine more times just to teach Big Brother Bernard a good, solid life lesson, and do you know what?
Mama O'Rama is certain that she showed him.
The Wiggly Bridge
Lisa Field is a horticulturist, a renowned conservationist, and a revered meditation teacher. She never smashes insects, never curses, and never needs to go on a diet.
One day Lisa was working in her garden, minding her own business, when two little girls popped up out of nowhere and started tossing fistfuls of dirt at her. Lisa, having once been a mean girl herself, recognized this mischief and evil laughter and knew the girls were really crying for help.
“Where’s your mother?”
The girls stomped all over Lisa’s succulents.
“Mommy drinks Daddy’s booze and tells us to run along.”
Ever since then, whenever the girls show up, Lisa takes them with her on her assignments as City Gardener. This is her effort to save these children from Nature-deficit Disorder.
Today, they are planting poinsettias in the Kate Sessions Canyon. But first they must cross the infamous Spruce Street Bridge, a rickety suspension footbridge.
The locals call it the Wiggly Bridge.
Rumor has it that not one single soul has ever made it across that shaky bridge without getting a Wiggles tune stuck in her head.
Lisa knows that these children rave on about that nursery-rhyming band from Australia, The Wiggles. When they get to the Wiggly Bridge, the girls lean far over the suspension wires, stretching their necks to see if Sam, Murray, Anthony, or Jeff may be playing hide and seek behind the queen palms.
The girls start to sing, “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.”
Originally, Lisa had intended to walk slowly with the girls over the bridge, stopping now and then to point out and name different species of flora in the canyon far below. There’s twisted juniper. And there’s a blue cypress. There’s star jasmine. Lisa has always yearned to walk over all the Earth’s trails, paying homage to mother nature by teaching young children the names of all the wild things. Lisa wishes she could have children of her own. Alas, her partner, Rachel, does not want children.
Lisa could start to brood, or she could participate in the hot potato, cold spaghetti, banana mash dance steps the girls are doing to make the bridge sway and wobble. Lisa chooses to join the fun and quickly finds herself singing, “Dance the night away!” Her throat is a wild song, and the bridge is their perch. Lisa and these lost girls are birds on a wire. Lisa realizes she will need to teach them to fly.
Now, Lisa thinks she should be less concerned about saving children from Nature-deficit disorder and more concerned with recovering herself from Wiggle Mania.
One day Lisa was working in her garden, minding her own business, when two little girls popped up out of nowhere and started tossing fistfuls of dirt at her. Lisa, having once been a mean girl herself, recognized this mischief and evil laughter and knew the girls were really crying for help.
“Where’s your mother?”
The girls stomped all over Lisa’s succulents.
“Mommy drinks Daddy’s booze and tells us to run along.”
Ever since then, whenever the girls show up, Lisa takes them with her on her assignments as City Gardener. This is her effort to save these children from Nature-deficit Disorder.
Today, they are planting poinsettias in the Kate Sessions Canyon. But first they must cross the infamous Spruce Street Bridge, a rickety suspension footbridge.
The locals call it the Wiggly Bridge.
Rumor has it that not one single soul has ever made it across that shaky bridge without getting a Wiggles tune stuck in her head.
Lisa knows that these children rave on about that nursery-rhyming band from Australia, The Wiggles. When they get to the Wiggly Bridge, the girls lean far over the suspension wires, stretching their necks to see if Sam, Murray, Anthony, or Jeff may be playing hide and seek behind the queen palms.
The girls start to sing, “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.”
Originally, Lisa had intended to walk slowly with the girls over the bridge, stopping now and then to point out and name different species of flora in the canyon far below. There’s twisted juniper. And there’s a blue cypress. There’s star jasmine. Lisa has always yearned to walk over all the Earth’s trails, paying homage to mother nature by teaching young children the names of all the wild things. Lisa wishes she could have children of her own. Alas, her partner, Rachel, does not want children.
Lisa could start to brood, or she could participate in the hot potato, cold spaghetti, banana mash dance steps the girls are doing to make the bridge sway and wobble. Lisa chooses to join the fun and quickly finds herself singing, “Dance the night away!” Her throat is a wild song, and the bridge is their perch. Lisa and these lost girls are birds on a wire. Lisa realizes she will need to teach them to fly.
Now, Lisa thinks she should be less concerned about saving children from Nature-deficit disorder and more concerned with recovering herself from Wiggle Mania.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Listening to Mardi Gras Playlist on Jazz 88 & Making Love in the VooDoo Garden
He played his tight swinging bass vamp all over her ass. He banged chords, repetitions, and trills all over her thighs. With his lyric stuffed in her mouth, she sang these words, "I'm a woman. I could make love to a crocodile. I'm a woman. I can sing the blues. I'm a woman. I can crush stone with a pin. I'm an earth shaker."
The neighbors in the next town felt their coital clamor.
He gave this one performance all of his best crying, growling, writhing strength. She repaid him with a cursing moaning hummingbird buzzing multi-phonics. Their ugly lovemaking was the envy of all beasts.
Their whiskey dreams jammed all through that night.
The next days of solos. She never heard his arpeggiated mournful glissandi. He never heard her sad trilling aria melting into blue arpeggios.
She thought souls slow lulls.
He thought so long soul lows.
Silently, they had promised that they'd meet again at that craggy coast around midnight of the year 2020.
He promises to thrill her G String with his wicked vibratos.
She promises to wreak orchestral havoc on his upright bass.
The neighbors in the next town felt their coital clamor.
He gave this one performance all of his best crying, growling, writhing strength. She repaid him with a cursing moaning hummingbird buzzing multi-phonics. Their ugly lovemaking was the envy of all beasts.
Their whiskey dreams jammed all through that night.
The next days of solos. She never heard his arpeggiated mournful glissandi. He never heard her sad trilling aria melting into blue arpeggios.
She thought souls slow lulls.
He thought so long soul lows.
Silently, they had promised that they'd meet again at that craggy coast around midnight of the year 2020.
He promises to thrill her G String with his wicked vibratos.
She promises to wreak orchestral havoc on his upright bass.
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