BY JOHN COLAGRANDE JR
BECAUSE I SATIRIZED JAMES BALDWIN IN A STORY (PROOF OF THE EXISTENCE OF
Because I forgot this biography of James Baldwin in the purse of Jen Jonack
after a night of heavy swilling on the Lower East side;
Because Jen gave the book to Liz Moore in Arizona when they were visiting
Because Liz forgot to give it to me when she and Kay came to San Francisco
for a summer trip;
Because I'm no longer talking to Liz since she decided to stay at home
sniffing ketamine when she could've hung out with me at the Boom Boom Room,
she brought the book home to New York and gave it back to Jen;
Because Jen took the book to Paris on a family vacation and left it on the
return plane into Kennedy;
Because I never finished the book;
Because of all this I am waiting on Polk Street for the 19 down to the San
Francisco library to pay for the book, my dues, the least of which is ten
dollars and ninety-five cents.
A WRITER NAMED NOTHING
was seedless and certified as
being organically grown.
One World Cup
nothing landed in Manchester, England
and picked daisies while
looking for the mothership connection.
nothing wore a Guatemalan book bag
a stitched tapestry of
dreadies, punks, Rasta's, rude boys
-a collage of masks,
a horny peacock
chirping 'one love, one love.'
History right before nothing's eyes
at 4:20 the IRA bombed the city
with carrots, cheesecake, and crackers.
nothing thought no one really knows if they're dreaming.
In England the lights are red then yellow
before turning green-
there was panic on the streets of London.
In the Kyoto Garden of Holland Park
dodo birds cried of a mislead faith-
the usual non-traditional hoopla.
nothing wrote in a journal:
ideas can be solid
but they can also be waste
and it is through digestion
that one can tell the difference.
and for 1 quid 50 pence
nothing caught a ride out of Manchester
to check out the crop circles in Hampshire.
AT THE MET
In Central Asia
I met Standing Bodhisattva.
He was in a glass case.
Behind Standing Bodhisattva,
reflected on the glass,
was Sitting Buddha.
I turned around.
Sitting Buddha sat in his own glass case
across the room
parallel with Standing Bodhisattva.
I turned back around to Standing Bodhisattva.
My eyes shifted past Standing Bodhisattva to the
reflection of Sitting Buddha.
With a shift of the eye I saw my own reflection.
All three images superimposed over another
depending on the point of view of the eye.
The reflections wavered in the light.
I ran over to Sitting Buddha.
He wore that grin on his face.