History Before Was Brunch Ever
For Workers everywhere, bricks, straw, verse.
The breast naturally of Woman is bread before
there was bread, the child the loaf swelling in
Her arms to farm & from such frame a world.
Thus Labor. Bread is History.
Child's toil, unspoiled, forms a culture beast,
he crawls forth, makes bread of soil native &
other, a Mother culture all & still, everywhere.
- Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, from 'Immigrants Exile, Labor, Drive Or Will, And The Lady Mother - A Malafiction'
1
History before was brunch ever in the world.
Sunday. St. Marks & 1st Avenue. Red, red Simone,
doors open to sun and saunter, the wander, now
'arm in arm they goes' just past the corner where
was found Berryman abandoned, run over, bleeding
ink into the avenue's black page, a then-new copy,
heavy, of Zukofsky ('Z') 'A' already lost, me, in the
reading but gladly Berryman on my lap, no, knee/
kneel, rather, while reading 'Z' evoke old ward Jews,
Italians, horse-drawn venders, runners about with
carts heaving, vegetable griefs returned to church
to synagogue dark alley dead ends where what is
left out of grief is carved into bricks with knives
(O what is the name, lost perhaps, of
he who once sharpened all our knives?) :
THIS OUR LIFE
SOME FEW RETURN
TO HEAR/SEE
EVIDENCE OF
THE NATURE OF A CITY
IS TO CONTINUALLY
ERASE ITSELF
2
Zuke** saw said feigned
old tongue which is an
old seeing, shaping art
or 'newed it up' out with
forth- for hind- or other-
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poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
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