LA | NY A Special Edition of The East Village

Ange Mlinko

Irrational Superballs

Well there's Thomas Aquinas ignoring me
On stoops nights Neptune sweated on the frieze
Of Public Bath No. 7, guy typing on his knees
Outside the laundromat & armored car at the check cashing place
Guards case though it's Brooklyn, nothing hidden
Haloed stovetops boil donuts as uniformed schoolkids
Big finger rings in dime machines and irrational superballs
Bounce the basketballs metrically down blocks that measure
The avenue toward the city center
Is it dangerous to unplug? one should
Lightning alias erg, volt, amp or watt and what
Will it smite and who
Will get the last peonies before foregone in storm
Jeff's mom cuts them? rushing them inside
You came to & said "Dying is nothing to be afraid of"
But loving to faint, which gives you a delicious feeling
Of waking under a wooden rollercoaster, hung o'er
With Spanish moss, after sweet rain

"Saved" sporting hands on your head
And back or among broken columns sleeping
(Now they're talking about the death of protons)
Bumping into a tree stump annoyed at the arboricide
Timeline of history, ringside: When was I born?
How old were you? How long til you?
Someone researches what a fact is in Husserl
Hegel, Kant & Aristotle
Then going for a driver's license or bank account
As chased off the steps by hired guards
Leaves open & close, venting their fledglings--one didn't make it
Like the big Buddha from Puto-Shan hung on horsehair plaster
Waiting to fall on our heads
But if the little bird doesn't wake up the sidewalk when she falls?
The roots break it up from beneath & take her back
Not like something you saw, him jump from the bridge
As police closed in, handing back her jewelry after
Retrieving the body, it was reported like the Perseid showers
& cereal into bowls in the morning, nobody talking

Volcanic with paper, spewed by copier
Heat the salesgirl reciting colors & stocks 
At the Midnight Zine 24-Hour Copyshop
Are trousers singular or plural? singular said the boy
At the top and plural at the bottom (language
Has no future tense per se, just a mode of promise, possibility)
With which one could get fucked
Waistband cock at 12 o'clock, gun, citation pad, mace or gas, 
Stick, flashlight, walkie-talkie speak easy
Queasy in the empty car he looms 
'Cause it would look weird to sit?
When the breeze ain't blowing Gowanus 
Toward the Revolutionary War, pray for makers of razor wire
Among other shit, Whitman knows the sky is still above
Those alive to see it, who saw Gowanus himself
& mentioned it, in Leaves of Grass where it will always be