
Beatniks Berlin bumtrips: A poem recorded in Victoria Park.
Walking through Berlin looking at colors
☉ I. The Chair and the Woman
There’s a woman who looks like a tattered old chair.
She’s a fabulous creature
with thick green socks way up over thick as renaissance fair turkey meat calves
a rock medallion as the necklace
Everything is worn enough that it seems made—
the way that mold comes on to things
and then seems new and made by natural
So fresh and vital
Maybe it’s the way
that the sun can catch on a cigarette
look the same white as a full body sweatsuit
and dangle the same way
Fabric drape
Cigarette limp on the lip
The sun light is a tight pussy
It’s also likes cheeks—
and they get fat and hold the sun
and dangle like a cigarette,
holding in the sun.
Maybe the same thing
As body holding sun in this almost empty Library parking lot holding this woman
A place to rest
with the rock medallion and the green socks worn with calm shell sandals.
I think just because they fit her swollen feet,
and her face has transformed
into a 1930s snowman cartoon.
And she’s bending over in the full snow avalanche,
and her green socks are coming up,
and they feel real and new and alive—
the way the mold does when it’s on old things outside….