They say this city never sleeps
I say it is a Shepard tone
an escalator of illusion
forever rising, forever falling a
conductor-less orchestra eternally
tuning up.
No, there is no song
only these ideas
only cacophonous answers
to atonal questions
a rabble of relatives'
vying voices
boomeranging, ricocheting
TRYING TO TELL YOU
EXACTLY HOW IT REALLY HAPPENED!
Let me rhapsodize, elegize
wax romantic, pedantic for a moment
over the dirty, the loud, and the tawdry
over the city that listens without stopping
not so much welcomes as dares me to join in
its merry mamba, calling,
Where have you been? Keep up! I've been waiting!
Learning to cha-cha and samba
your way down the sidewalk,
the syncopated eighth-note ba-BOOM rhythm of
a New Yorker striking diamond plated cellar doors
where angels fear to tread,
it's an art.
Listen closely,
and let a little city music count you in:
the loose change manhole covers jingle, jangle, rattle, settle
every pressed button tolls for thee
every screeching incinerator-hot subway arrival
is accompanied by a bird song ding-dong doorbell chime
a ridiculous juxtaposition
a joke with no punchline
up the steps two at a time
you emerge from the subterranean
and while one movement is ending
another is beginning -
No clapping yet, please! We're not done playing.
On the street, a hiss, swoosh, and whir walk their usual beat
restless, invisible, atmospheric
blooming up and out against the buildings
loud, LOUD, LOUD!
City cicadas join the irresistible chorus
sending fumy prayers up to heaven
tuning their horns against the concert pitch
chanting, imploring, pleading:
LEARN HOW TO DRIVE! GO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
There is no subtlety, no subversion,
no wondering about
what the city might be thinking
it tells you loud and clear:
Hey, I'm living here!
Walking here,
Backing up here,
Unloading in the NO UNLOADING UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, EVER zone here (what!?),
Hawking comedy show tickets, the barker for the tourists' carnival here,
Selling dirty dogs and stale as cardboard pretzels here -
(those salty hexahedrons that sizzle a hole in your tongue mined from some abandoned Depression-era public works project, I swear) -
Working out the chords of Hey Jude on the shittiest guitar known to man over here,
belting it out from the basement of my lungs
the city - a microphone, an ear
leans in to listen
asks not if I'm any good (who cares?), but rather,
YES?
---
A moment of metropolis apocalypse silence for those
who aren't us
aren't here.
They say it's here or nowhere
and I think I know what they mean.
Because of anywhere else
I think of Vermeer:
gloomy, dreary, and glum
pale yellow sickly light merely suggestive of a sun
downcast eyes looking over the scenes of everyday life
varnished eyes looking out at you over a shoulder
placidly screaming
GET ME OUT OF HERE.
If you do get out of there,
and I hope you do,
get to W 53rd between 5th and 6th.
You'll find yourself at the Museum of Modern Art
which is long winded, so MoMA for short
and there you'll see The Starry Night
imagine it - Van Gogh's triumph on a sterile bright white wall!
But something about the depth of the strokes
the one forming over the other
the never-ending riotous movement of the matter
somehow Van Gogh knew how to say New York in color.
Yes, he understood us without words.
Yes, I think he was one of us.
What would he think, I wonder, of us
removing the gravity from his stars
gathering them earthbound around us?
Or this this selfish desire I have
to resurrect Treasury Secretary and adoptive New Yorker
Alexander Hamilton
and row him blindfolded back across the Hudson to Weehawken
for just one more dawn.
Removing his blindfold for him to see
his city
standing expectantly at attention
sparkling new in the old man's eyes
Atlantis resurrected
I want to see love try to encompass something so unfathomable
so wonderful
as the passage of time.
Two-hundred odd years between
between Vermeer and Van Gogh
between Alexander's city and mine.
About the Creator
Ava Mack
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Compelling and original writing
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Heartfelt and relatable
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Comments (17)
This feels like waking down the street in Dallas. I loved that feeling.
Harmonious cacophony of urban wonder, a truly grand experience. I've had to keep coming back to this, it's among the best work I've seen here. Masterful! 👏
This...is stunning. And made me a new subscriber. Love your way with words, Ava! Well done!
Wow perfect 😍
There is only one way to say this. This is the best poem I have ever read. Well done, I loved it.
Damn, this was a masterclass in free form. Thank you so much for sharing this. I'm absolutely gobsmacked. LOVE the 'here' section, the rhythm truly shines there, though it's great all the way through. 💖🤯
Wow, wow, wow. Now I know that I need to visit the city with my head in the game. You have such a magnificent way with words. It's like watching a puzzle magically connect its own parts. Bravo!
Congratulations 🎉💖✨
Oof! Ring a ding dong! 🙌
LOVE THIS, Ava!!! A M A Z I N G! Lived there for 7 years and this was music to my ears. Brilliantly composed! 💫congrats on Top Story!
Wow! This is amazing. Congrats on the TS
WOWZA
This is a life force. Absolutely fantastic. Such imagery throughout but ‘wax romantic’ is my favorite! Great work, Ava!
Absolutely breathtaking work. Instant subscribe. 💗
What a description of the life force flowing through a living breathing city
Native New Yorker HERE! Love this!!!
This is sooo cool!!!