The New Fancy
after an article by Joyce Cohen in The New York Times: March 26, 2017
The Hunt — Self-Employed Artists Find A Home Without Wheels
She a drummer
he plays guitar and acts.
They both sing
“misfit pop” tracks.
The couple rolled into NYC
in an ’82 Volkswagon camper
landing in Bedford-Stuy, Brooklyn,
rough around the edge but not cramper.
As self-employed artists they filmed
“Consumer Comments On Vegan Mayonnaise”
(cannot make this stuff up)
neither a critical success or a campy craze.
Always looking on the bright side,
they searched for an affordable rental:
750 sq. ft. in central Harlem — its windows covered
with paper, certainly to these two, nothing detrimental.
On a clear day
it’s off with the paper for plenty of light,
while the bathroom faucet growls on and off
frightening away critters throughout the night.
The water pressure is so low —
one neighboring wifi network is aptly named,
“NoWaterPressureHere,” thus insuring
urban wit and creativity, above all, take aim.
“It’s better than the wheels,” so they say
and certainly not permanent.
As artists seeking gritty New York,
now all they have to do — is pay the rent.
ag ~ 2017
So much waiting to be born.
Blackberries not yet on the
bramble path, much less so
sweetening tarts and tongues.
Spring peepers chippering
moonlight — oh what a wonder to
be the pond that enjoys such a
buxom chorus. Sap waiting to
rise in rabbits and wolves —
their winter stains bled and shed
for the next generation’s fur and
teeth. Wood violets and dandelion
laboring earth and leaf debris
— no less faithful the insects and
breezes that scatter their seeds
and gaiety. Wide vees of geese
to unzipper sky of cloud and fog,
percussing wings and wills of
summer grazing across fields,
streams and highways. Green,
pink and yellow ready to stir
northern gardens into tulips,
roses and corn. Yeast with water
and wheat rebirthing warm and
wrinkled hands — rises and yields.
Rises and yields. The soft dough
braiding Spring into Easter Bread,
Babka and Challah.
so much waiting to be born.
AG ~ 2017
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.'” Pablo Picasso
…and some of us have to become artists in order to learn how to play like children again.
picking out balloons at the party store mesmerized by all the candy
storms of tweets
somehow Stella makes the storm more neighborly
sometimes it takes a storm to bake cookies
I ~ Stella
The storm becomes her name.
Or should it be Blanche?
Charm is 50% illusion.
I don’t want realism. I want magic!
Haven’t you ever ridden on that streetcar?
that bangs through the Quarter
Why, they told me to take a streetcar named Desire.
II ~ Nuances At Midnight
Yesterday a Spring walk.
Waking to a chiseled morning rides a wild mustang.
A dame that knows she’s good looking.
What kind of a queen do you think you are?
The real cork.
Marie Antoinette meets Blanche DuBois.
They eat cake. Where’s Stella?
She’s out there on the porch.
almost forsythia a little rain a little snow
imagine simmering pots of fragrant words
cabbage and beans
a garden celebration
of rustic stars
letting go letting g letting lettin lett let