... growing up in the cornfields
there was precious to do
so my brother and i...
and a kid or two from one of the other few houses in the sea of corn,
would go exploring...
often the edges of fields... the strange middle of the fields...
the empty farm houses (barns)
the walls were so decayed you could see through them
rusty nails (he stepped on one: went right through his foot!)
life, once lived
a grave, a cadaver
you can go inside
and, aid a bit in he decay: make a mark on the world...
make way for the new.
- i've always enjoyed abandonded houses.
When i lived in Tucson
friends and i would be a bit more elaborate
jumping the alley-way's large iron gate
climbing up the wall with a grappling hook
across the building of the bank
over all the store fronts
crow-baring the old bathroom window
of the movie-house
that had been closed up for over 20 years...
the rotting velvet chairs...
silver screen gone to dull-gray spiderwebs
old reels: dust.
we'd put on fire shows
sit there and talk...
in the forgotten places
we could be free.
When i lived in Little Rock
i lived in the ghetto
many empty foundations
where houses had been blown down by a recent tornado...
walking to work in the morning
we'd find half the city empty
down-town historic buildings, cheap hotels, etc...
i knew there'd be some wonderful places in there...
and i was feeling the isolation of not liking the town, the people
only liking one person: my lover...
i asked him if he'd break into the old school with me
(not down town, on the walk back to our house)
like many things
he did not understand
and seemed angry at me:
"Why break into abandonded buildings? i don't understand.."
i couldn't explain anything to him.
and it's been a Long time since then (a bit over 5 years...)
i don't think i've been in any haunted houses since...
i've been depressed lately
maybe feeling the same way
floating in a sea of fog:
New York has been heavy and rainy and grey
yesterday, walking with a friend
it got cold again:
i caught a chill...
up here (in the bronx) at the meeting last night
i fell into conversation with the Kids after
drinking a small bottle of Johnny Walker Red
a bit warmer...
the idea sprang up
and we climbed the ladder
up to the roof
jumped over the foot-and-a-half gap between buildings
and climbed down the old ladder into the...
what was this?
some sort of work-shop...
all with very dim lights...
about seven kids
surveying the wreckage...
distorting the sodium lights...
indecipherable piles of rotting things..
old dusty dowels..
large metal thing...
a box of tiles...
i remember we needed tiles... for something.. what?
i go to see what's inside the box
but there's a big canister on top
maybe a coffee can
i tilt it to see if i can see what's inside
so set it back down
and it tumbles after me
crashing down on me and smashing over the bridge of my nose.
not a coffee can
something much heavier
i'm a bit stunned
eyes a bit watery
i raise my finger to my nose
and feel a little chunk taken out...
broken nose number 6?
i didn't panic
we took our time exploring...
one of the kids faced me with a door
dirty grey cobwebs covered it...
shiny brass nob
she turned the lock
i braced myself and yanked out the metal tooth holding the door in place...
turned the handle and PULLED
a back yard?
-Slammed the door
the dog started barking and freaking out
we headed back up
into the misty rainy night air
looked out at the city
then came back into the apartment to clean up my face:
this is what i looked like earlier in the day:
this is what i looked like when i first looked in the mirror
a closer look:
after i cleaned it off:
the nose didn't bleed internally
and it hardly feels bruised...
when i lay down to sleep
i could feel the bludd running down my face
over my eye lid...
it was a bloody mess in the morning
but i forgot to take a picture
now i've got to rush off to the school to meet the new teacher i'll be working for
"hello, don't worry: i busted his ass."