Evanescent Hesse

Who knows more of gods than I?

Deities defied, not the first time.

I scan scraps of Abraxas,

Rap along to Pac; rip Big’s Faith,

My skin infection scratched, an itch

With which I cannot live. I pray

For nightmares — Dana Dane — to stop

Effluvial rainfall. Oh, here comes

The wet stuff. Here come I.

Up the train, off the 7, up

The stairs to Vernon. The church?

St. Mary’s. 49th, 49th, 49th.

El ay si mac and cheese. IPA.

A walk across Pulaski Hump to

Greenpoint. It’s post-pop

Hipster, so my jeans press

Just one plum to my leg.

The Dionysus to the other,

The Apollo orbiting right, left.

In the middle, Bazooka Joe.

It is, after all, so cold (the plum).

Baller status. Church bells chime,

The chimera within. A right on Driggs,

Parallel to Bedford.

Ratty chains, skulls patch a pylon

Maze of bubblegum dusk.

Ay, huevos. I am this side-

Walk crack, its bugs, its spit,

The crushed shrapnel of Red Bull

Cans, shining, a conduit.

The buts and howevers,

The nonethelesses,

The (al)thoughs that weigh

On the other hand.

Songbird guru lays an eggy,

Jazzy omelet with spicy pap.

Gunk notwithstanding,

I am a hardened man.