by Karen Brennan

    Spider City

    After a while I dreamt about

    the Spider City

    & when I woke up in my

    flannel¹ pj's

    the curtain flapped open

    & the sky greeted me.

    Hello Karen， Hello Little Bee，

    it said which is when

    I remembered the strange

    webbed sky of the Spider

    City & your face in the

    middle saying Kiss Me.

    Breathless City

    Every city is a little breathless，

    a little behind the times，

    racing² to catch up， thus

    gasping³.

    That day I wore a gray suit，

    white gloves， 1960 or so.

    Some thin man approached

    & offered me $$ to

    pose in the nude⁴.

    The sun over St. Patrick's

    Cathedral like a child's

    sun， all rays around

    a smiling face

    & the man whose gray suit

    matched my own was

    called Ray！

    Such coincidences

    occur in a city whose heart

    splits open in two shocks.

    But this happened later.

    & I wasn't around

    though I watched it on TV.

    Dapper City

    In Florida the palm branches

    rustle⁵ like neckties，

    the ocean an opulent

    cologne we plunder⁶，

    the grass， green as the

    stolen eye of the Dowager

    or a bruised⁷ infant

    which is so sad

    found in the trash can

    among some white receipts

    & spaghetti.

    I am smoking a cigarette

    wishing it were over-

    the parasols， the gliding⁸ waterway

    ships， the cocktails⁹，

    the aces¹⁰ & clubs， the languorous¹¹ beach

    stretches， the strings¹² of pearls，

    hats-

    wishing it would begin again.

    Dieting City

    Or Starving City. It's hard

    to tell. For one thing， it's

    dark & for another

    I feel inadequate¹³.

    My perpetual motion has

    ceased to amuse anyone here

    （I confide¹⁴） even though……

    I wore a beautiful skirt of red silk

    & when I whirled you could

    see everything-

    the river

    with its captured lights， the

    glint of bridges， the

    pock-marked Palisades，

    aflame.

    So much of this is untrue.

    A worm slunk in the sidewalk cracks.

    An old， old woman， wreathed

    in snot，

    spoke¹⁵ sharply： She said，

    "just because you give me five dollars

    don't entitle you to my life's story."

    City of Jokes

    A man goes to a psychiatrist¹⁶

    sporting a huge gash¹⁷ in his

    forehead， says I bit

    myself. How did you

    do that？ asks the psychiatrist.

    It was easy， says the man.

    I stood on a stool.

    Afterwards， I pulled out of

    the parking garage & the

    day was overcast¹⁸， streets

    icy.

    I drove up the hill & took

    a right. I drove by the

    drive-in coffee place &

    the brown house with the

    shutters¹⁹ & took a left

    & then I was home.

    I turned

    on the radio at this point.

    A girl with a cane²⁰ made her way

    down the sidewalk.

    She was a stranger，

    & she was my daughter.

    Elizabethan City

    I encountered Hamlet in a glade²¹

    & this scene， forsooth， changed into

    hills &

    then again a dark chamber²²

    in which my own mother lay dying.

    I wish it were another era

    but things occur where

    they will

    & my defenses are poor ones.

    She has elegant bones which，

    in age， have become sharp &

    unfriendly.

    （Oh the body weeps & slickers

    of hair cover all of us who

    keep vigils.）

    In a moment， I too， would

    invent a soliloquy about

    existence.

    My heart in its jeweled box

    as of nothing

    & zero the shape of

    sorrow which doesn't

    add up.

    City of Dot Dot Dot

    There was a window， a drape，

    a venetian blind thickened with

    dust， an accordion²³ sound

    up from the street……

    Your friend the author [was] inside

    this which was inside that which was

    once again……

    ad nauseum……

    contained in……

    etc etc……

    Space

    shrinks & even afternoons

    which once seemed so voluminous

    have dwindled²⁴ to a sad heap……

    Little wrinkled days no longer

    unfold…… Lawns have grown

    minuscule²⁵ & purposeless…… Hairs

    sprout²⁶ on the female chin & buildings

    formerly²⁷ majestic²⁸ are……

    But I was crazy then……

    In the fullness of each moment……

    I walked everywhere in the gloam & sand……

    City of Basements

    Of course， conducive²⁹ to sleep.

    Of course， musty & poorly

    organized. You wouldn't go there

    uninvited. I wouldn't invite you.

    But there are chinks in the brick ceilings

    that make it seem radiant

    elsewhere， which is a blessing³⁰.

    & amid the rats & spider houses

    I might invent something

    spectacular （I almost believe）。

    This is all I have to say about it.

    Because it is unamenable to description.

    Because even now my eyes are closing.

    Pity yourself， Sister.

    Life is harder than you dreamed possible.

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