Ginsberg, NY

I was born on the Hudson,
Slightly to the left,
On Coney Island

Between my mother’s marriages,
Between a footstep
From unhappy inertia,
These perfunctory unions
Our coital explorations
You’ll understand,
Sweet love of this shared
On some evenings,
Silent expanse
In expectant
Haloing the phalanx of
Orange street moons,
Here and there,
A derelict satellite,
Winks at the wing mothed

Halfway to a rue of chaotic abandon,
My parents,
Unfortunate couplet,
In their white and gold
Parodying Travolta

This pavement crack
Our fathers war torn
Dryad did ignite,
Strewn in July
To lift the grates off
To their infinitely
Seasonal delight 😉

In Brooklyn,
Blood makes the bread rise,
I guess

On a maniac god’s brow cantilevered
By an elms shoulder sinews,
Flashbulbs saying, “brrr zatz!,”
In kaleidoscopic chiaroscuro,
Over the halogen grottoes,
Smelling of ozone and fist
Knotted into a gridlock
Somersault, pony tails
And sun-bleached Crocs
And wolf clothed vein
Cascading through Central,

Zoot suit specters,
Stitch patched elbows,
Bee bopping down the avenues

Here be the darkling musics,
O my sisters and brothers,
Fingers desperate spelunk,
Bleeding the serene faces
Of inscrutable mosaic,
Shall not uncover

Should wanton genius
Be so amiable to such
Inapt onslaught?
I’ll think not,
And beg pardons,
I care nothing for

Bard of rut and belt-knuckle nacre
Lust and wind scored cherubim,
Fingers ticking off the offal
Mounds, where rodents
Burrows hold tomorrows
And tomorrows
Alley strewn ticker
Are awaiting a scheduled
Zamboni swept
For the next show

Now, rise,
Nose ring centaurs,
Prowl the moon cork,
Bobbing on the bloody

Blue spike centurions
Mohawk, primly drawn to pinnacle
Upon aged brow,
Where disco balls
Echo in waters
Cocaina hollows in dimpled
Studio 54 sniggering
In the phantomed eyelet rings
Of the Roundabout

So, hello,
Who’s ear I’ll now
To tell,
That I was born in an electric sputter,
Concrete blasts the shoulder blade
Tet a tets to embers,
Corner store
Faceplates slammed
As the dusk settles,
Gentrified plastic ferns,
Brighten the wage halls,
Plastic smiles,
Waged hourly

But all the blood flows
In those ruffian guffaws
Of hard hat jackhammers

Of mothers’ weary heels,
Scraping up the tenement steps

Of fathers standing bedside guard
Against a drive by

In the legion footfalls
And sweetly mysterious faces,
Flow this urban river

Toe plie
Starving dog pups,
Banded for strength,
I was once,
Just such
A street level god,
Ears rising,
To the asphalt

Infant Jesus,
Ancient Zoroaster,
Ignuus fatuus,
This ratworm phoenix,
Stink and brine,
Of prostituted dreams,
Sings the harbor dirge,
Where lovers sneak,
From windows,
Down the rustbridge
Running with sweaty fingers
To Deno’s Wonder Wheel,
Of one hundred percent
Bethlehem Steel,
Ladies and gents,
You heard it here,
At Coney Island,
I was
Right there,
Amongst the horseshoe crabs
Scuttling in their curiously lateral
On the beachhead

I danced upon the cyclic pyres
In childhood ignorance,
Whilst gap-toothed doorways
In heart weary reminiscences,
I now share

In the distance,
A subterranean turnstile
Snaps its palm
To a graven coin

Redde caesari quae sunt caesaris

A thousand fold hearths are outshining
The twilight of these,
Atmospheric titans,
Twinkle your old thumbs,
At such gorgeously brief lives
Aglow with defiance
Of our inevitable ruin

These rust patina families,
Cobbled together,
With foreign songs,
These regional fables
To American shores,
Passed down
By word of bond
With hands of molecular rebar iron

Howl the animal love songs,
In this city

Here, where all roads
To meet us,

In our daily doldrums, and
In sudden blaze
Of meteoric spectacle
Around any conceivable corner,
O my sisters and brothers

In the city,
Blood makes the sun rise,
I guess


Ginsberg, NY
Daniel Christensen
Written by DanielChristensen (The Fire Elemental)
Author's Note
Hey strangers. Dedicating this new poem to my siblings Alfred and Melissa, my niece Soliel Mae and to friends who inspired me, Emily and Lou, and the friends I have missed here, such as Eamonn, who...
Hey strangers. Dedicating this new poem to my siblings Alfred and Melissa, my niece Soliel Mae and to friends who inspired me, Emily and Lou, and the friends I have missed here, such as Eamonn, who made me laugh when I had fractured ribs and a recently re-inflated lung. You bastard lol. I hope you're all doing well and I look forward to reading you. Enjoy.

Copyright © 2021 by Daniel Christensen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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