eb/25.11.2009

With fine shoes but no compass, I try for Harvard and find Kendall. False memories are like iron bridges.

ea/25.11.2009

The dew point is assessing flagpoles and back alleys. I am chafed by the axe of Ganesa while I rummage for kitchens and novelty near South Station.

da/24.11.2009

Parking is cheap and plentiful in Baltimore. Still, people walk.

cb/22.11.2009

I decide to hang from the wooden bleachers at the top of each flight. Akpan matches Ohiri’s 47 on the adjacent pitch. The cheers carry. The dizziness subsides.

bb/20.11.2009

I hear Leonard claim that the raven died for the dove, but doesn’t this confuse things? What about long shadows, bottled water and sincerity? Even toil and pigment cannot resolve them.

ca/22.11.2009

Where isolation and history sympathize, there is Stan Getz. There are lungs and scales, keys and practices. Vitality is summoned and license, absent permission, is granted.

ba/20.11.2009

I am casting for growth hormone in Allston. I am dreaming of blonde, statuesque elevators, plentiful and fast enough to supplant the escalator once and for all. Or vice versa.

aa/19.11.2009

I am hesitant, little brother, but this train is decisive and unhurried. Can you hear it? Are you tapping your feet, too? Is this nostalgia-free routine as familiar as algebra? I am haunting it today.