The East Village

Allison Cobb


 Woke up commuted fell silent.  And guess.  And fell.  And silent.  Almost on
 purpose now there will and fall a self dying like going into dying.  Like
 silent.  But also there being last Tuesday.  Last Tuesday there being there
 to run there above as were falling.  As in falling from windows in bodies as
 soon became known as.  As  Living Wage.  Jobs.  Invisible having voted in
 the morning. Famous now nothing having voted having gone to work forgiven
 everything woken up.  Of that world in selves of waking up.   In the morning
 that chance gorgeous edifice.  What says forgive us wake up and tosses its
 falling from watching out windows.  From windows fire from the ice glass of
 falling from stories.  From falling from the window of water in attitude
 peaceful in falling as a no name attached to anything.  What uncurled
 commute to the names from anything.  Nameless and fallen on the first day
 uncurled to fall to commuted to silent.