Roaming Danverts
c. 1996
This book was me being an asshole, really. I wrote it during my second semester at Shimer College, while taking a poetry class that made me question my own sanity. I remember something about the word "insipid" and something about interpretive dance at the ATM, and that pretty much sums up this chapbook! I released two of the poems as separate, tiny chapbooks (hand-illustrated and handwritten): "Last Week in the City I Never Went To" and "Develri". This was probably a failed experiment, but it meant something to me at the time.
Here's a gem among the rubble:
Nothing Stops the Presses
(Newsprint Bouquets)
("it was New York and beautifully snowing...")
lost in my springtime, the fields of long-stemmed roses
and cold, crumbling cement blocks
running after me through alleyways
with switchblades and .45's.
there are no taxis in my part of the woods.
a smog of businessmen and bums,
riding the monotony subway, 9-5,
such dirty grey flurries in my
april sunshine.
(for S.I.N.)