Drunk in New York



Wandering the streets

no longer mean

but welcoming

a belly full of Brooklyn lager

helps an open state of mind

and active sense of the absurd



I meet strange folk

the dispossessed

untamed and frankly weird

who would have danced

and rattled tins

on Bleecker and McDougal

in the changing times of Dylan



Electric-puppet-poet Toni the Beat

convulses on Mulberry Street

spinning like the cartoon Taz

and gabbing warp speed words

to anyone who listens

'Bukowski', she says

and I do understand



Tree-Man breaks the saplings off

in Roosevelt park

to fashion a gorilla nest

he will not use

cursing all and sundry

but not in malice

a demented Father Christmas

he gives warped benediction

for the sober



Czecho Father Charlie tells me

there's coke dealers

on the Bowery

'if you get good stuff' he says

'give some to me'

warns Tree-Man not to drink too much

then asks him for a beer

his parish are the sad and lonely lost

who do not ask his help

but get it anyway

his god is love

and I trust him



Bar stool skinner RL Haney

long white hair and cowboy boots

imagine Joe Buck 40 years on

playing Hank Williams / Stockhausen

on an ancient Hofner semi

neither can I but it's true

his Concert of Death

still has people talking

20 years on

on the upper west side



300 million ants it seems

in Chinatown

busy at their business

and a multitude of things

I'll never know about

'you want shoe?

gimme fi dollar'

I did

and they're comfy too



Ray the Broker

laughs at British humour

in the Patriot Lounge

and buys me Jagermeister

while Cydny dances on the bar

with tassels on her tits

her tips alone will pay for college

‘I love this bar’ some country singer warbles

on the jukebox

I know what he means



Drunk in New York






mick moss