there are cracks in the wall, cracks

there are cracks in the wall, cracks
that develop at once
overexposed, like silver
graffiti flashing across the tunneling
between 72nd and 96th –
when everything is so
in each indecipherable
execution, nothing can work


  1. Glenn Buttkus

    A very surreal ride, Y. Cracks in those walls, that are aping quick silver, and show up in flashes like living veins of some subterranian
    organism that you chuting through, some fantastic journey churning, rattling, clanking, buzzing, banging, shooshing through the innards of a tube,
    a shadowy tunnel that is supposed to lead somewhere back to the light, but for those strobe moments, counting the silver veins, you are not sure that the train might be headed for its next stop in the twilight zone. I feel that you are sharing the inexplicable tedium of the commute, and yet more, of the beat of life itself, there in the core of the apple, teeming with millions of worms, speaking dozens of languages, sporting
    every color of skin, all with different agendi,
    when/everything is so/forced in each indecipherable/execution, nothing can work/….
    yeah, we all have those days, when the contata of the city, the cacaphony of its overlapping music,
    drowns out that which might try to be linear or focused.

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