GANSEVOORT STREET
I wander the verse of my betters
Nihilistic priests heartbroken lesbians
Alcoholics from Knoxville and points south
I ask each of them to put their words in my mouth
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Brilliant depressives of letters
Nihilistic post-soviet chain-smokers
You run smoke-circles around me when I try
Keeping up with you on the streets around Gansevoort
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I wander the streets around GansevoortÂ
The meat packers, the High Line, the Whitney
In the same metaphysical melancholy
The same muddled melancholy… I mean
Muddled up with so much and yet sayable.
Or at least you say it. Give me your words and let me say it.