Coldly Took Their Nickels

Sixth Ave. & W. 4th St.

How could we omit Paul Goodman from our summer series, Poetry/Motion? Goodman is rightly known for many things beyond his poetry. His social commentary, plays for the Living Theatre, contributions to the development of Gestalt therapy...  But handball playing? The characterization of the Puerto Rican kids is facile at best ("hot youth"), but the poem still captures a quintessential New York City street sport. (I'm encouraged to see kids playing in the park in Elmhurst, as well as seasoned "pros" like those on West 4th above.)

Handball Players

The ball we bought in December
was tired in the shop
and didn't want to bounce at all
on the below-freezing court.

Arrogant in their hot
youth the Puerto Ricans
challenged us and smashed the wall.
But Dave and I were cold,

steady and intelligent,
and coldly took their nickels
dimes and silver quarters
with small shots in the corners.

Business, Done and Undone

Fort Square, the name popped into my head looking out the window at Destino's across to Our Lady of Good Voyage church. A few minutes drive, I was parking my car--on the diagonal, as directed--in front of the Fort Square Cafe, and walking out Commercial Street between warehouses and marine yards.

Fort Square, Gloucester: a tight little circle of a neighborhood, houses on top of each other, climbing over a small hill, surrounded by water.

I could have Googled the address, but preferred just to wander around. I had just about completed the loop. For some reason looked back over my shoulder and noticed the small plaque, next to an empty flag-holder, on the brick wall of a house I had already passed: "Charles Olson/Poet/1910-1970"

Olson moved to the apartment in Fort Square with his wife Betty in 1957. For an excellent, archaeological account of Olson in Gloucester, see Iain Sinclair's American Smoke. Below, the view he would have had as he walked out from the apartment. Perhaps the one he had in mind when he wrote the conclusion to "Maximus, to himself":

It is undone business
I speak of, this morning,
with the sea
stretching out
from my feet

Good, Good Gloucester

Here is what I accomplished in Gloucester on one Monday morning in early August...

-Spent an hour and a half at Good Harbor Beach. Fogbound when I arrived, I almost decided to skip the beach (and save $20 for parking), but it cleared half an hour after I arrived. The water was as cold as it was in Maine a week ago.

-Lost a beach chair (left if outside the changing room and forgot it).

-Peeked in at Our Lady of Good Voyage church. Only to discover a memorial mass going on. (At least I wasn't still wearing my trunks.)

-Had a linguica sub at Destino's with fried onions and peppers (or just "fried" as they say at Destino's).

-Walked around the Fort Hill neighborhood. (More about that soon.)

-Picked up a good coffee and a couple almond crescents for the road from the Italian pastry shop at the end of Main street.

...and made it back to Cambridge for afternoon meetings and evening performance (not mine).

The Green Man of the SIE

I often stay on Gannon Avenue for an extra mile or so before getting on the eastbound Staten Island Expressway. It doesn't add much time as the traffic on the expressway slows considerably due to a long upgrade (despite the DOT's reminder to "maintain speed"). Today, for the first time, I noticed this tree between the avenue and the expressway.

It somehow recalled the rapacious tree in Kinglsey Amis' entertaining novel, The Green Man, itself drawing on legends of the human figure (or face at least) inextricably bound up with a tree's branches and leaves. What do you see?

Those Who Carry

Time for a few more proposals for our Poetry or Motion series before the summer comes to an end. Here is a poem by Polish poet Anna Kamieńska, translated by Grazyńa Drabik and David Curzon (from Astonishments: Selected Poems of Anna Kamieńska).

Those Who Carry

Those who carry grand pianos
to the tenth floor wardrobes and coffins
the old man with a bundle of wood hobbling towards the horizon
the lady with a hump of nettles
the madwoman pushing her baby carriage
full of empty vodka bottles
they all will be raised up
like a seagull's feather like a dry leaf
like an eggshell a scrap of newspaper in the street

Blessed are those who carry 
for they will be raised

The photo was taken outside a Waldbaum's in Woodside, Queens. Waiting for the bottle deposit machines to be turned on.

Danger Keep Off

The syntax for the sign in the van's rear window seemed "off" somehow.

The timing, right on.

Neighbors

At 30th Avenue, 68th Street and 69th Street nearly touch. Just a sidewalk and a narrow verge divide them. 68th Street owes its gentle curve to the only neighbor on the east side of the street--the BQE. A somewhat overgrown path beckons...

You're through! Shadows on the highway wall from one of the several old trees that line the street.

Further on, the highway wall is covered with ivy. Flowers in the garden across the street provide some color.

Only one house for sale on the block. Maybe good highways do make good neighbors.