come 2016
or 2015
or 2017
whenever china’s economy exceeds that of the united states
(the year disputed circa. 2016)
and there is no longer any dispute over
who will be calling the shots in the world
from there on out
one has to wonder---
having spent any time in america---
or more importantly/specifically
new orleans &
detroit city &
dallas &
pittsburg &
nyc &
kansas city &
atlanta &
chicago &
la---
will there be chinese james brown?
a new “hardest working man in show business”
whose tunes fill the ears of those new most important cities---
be it
hong kong off the mainland, or
shanghai, beijing, cheng du, hang zhou, qingdao,
xi’an,
taipei, dali, ningbo or
quangzhou---
will there be a new man who bearing the purest chinese soul,
pumping it out in
mandarin or cantonese?
will he be pop-locking as the most perfect popper
dancing the night away
please audience from one side of the globe to another
broadcasted in better-than-broadband (whatever comes next)---
from iphone to ipads to the next
most virtual replacement---
no doubt we will all be dancing with him
singing the new anthems of our age---
“?????!”
Concourse "C"
Part three
Directions printed from Map Quest
meant only for one way
confused three tired travelers
driving to Delaware late one day
Leaving Kennedy
heading towards ninety five
they pass the on-ramp quickly
High,
they never saw the sign.
The wrong direction they head for miles
in this city of high steel and concrete.
Time passed, traffic slowed
weather turned from rain to sleet
Through the city they drive in circles
passing buildings already seen
hitting every red light for miles
given no chance for speed
Over bridges & underground tunnels,
like rats scrambling through a maze
they're lost somewhere in Brooklyn
and have been half the day.
Jared Pickett
1/22/06
Asavvy1
The gloomy storm brightens drab city streets,
leaving mirror puddles on cold black tar
cleansing red blood from curbs of violence,
fetid odors of stale fomented beer.
The sweat of the city evaporates,
invading nostrils like a down hill sewer
inhaling, a gutter gully gusher.
Steam bellows forth in systematic bursts,
aborting unwanted vapor pressure
in subterranean tunnel caverns
from pitted, porous, perforated pipes.
The city bathes itself in acid rain
scoring concrete, etching brick, eating flesh.
This cities' long needed bath is last seen
floating away, skimming old power lines
toward the next open manhole in its path.
This is the city where
I found,
the fixity of
synthesis.
These are the streets
that pace,
fames the course
of imminence.
This is the city where
I lost,
the tangibility
of surface...
...This is the where
I am to be found,
and found to be
lost.