dedicated to Chicago Mayor Richard Daley
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
walking invisible between the rows of seats unavailable to me
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
ancient conductor asks for the ticket and punches it without a wink
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
heading towards the art museums to view and mentally remark on
Van Gogh, Kline, Man Ray, Adam Brooks, Lichenstein, James Roy, and others
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
passing station after station, people herding on, off and back again
they are all the same as I am the same
never looking out or in to see occupation, feet or briefcases
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
passing abandoned buildings, many more now, with squatters
looking and ducking, smoking pot and never hurting anyone
hanging out on fire escapes where the American Flag still flies
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
streets filled with one way signs and homeless with distended bellies,
hungry stomachs, dirty fingernails asking for a quarter
and being obliged without notice to their clothes or faces
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
thinking of Sandberg, Algren, Brooks, Rodgers
Stryk, Dickensen and others who have come before me
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
MOMA, MCA, Art Institute, holocaust Museum, Museum of painted glass
artists individual studios open to whomever come who may
offering wiskey, raw whores, coffee and conversation
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
policemen looking everywhere, looking nowhere, looking for
bearded men, homeless beggars, flower salesman and business girls
with tight skirts and blazers low cut displaying breasts and lockets
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
– Hoc Scripsi
This is the first part of a much longer poem that I’ve been working on for awhile. I think that this is about finished and the second part is getting there as well. I have decided to dedicate it to the Chicago City Mayor for reasons that are nationally known. I can illuminate if needed.
Some of the names, I am not sure how known these people are outside Chicago and a few I have chanced to know personally – how personally is up for debate.
I can only hope that this poem is read when I am finished with it – this one is close to the vest, It may be my Howl, who knows.
– J.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 