What’s Near is Never as Far

A piece I just found this morning that I wrote in November 2008.  I figured for the current state of my mentality, it fit.  So, regardless of it not being a recent piece, it’s in essence yes?

The Coca Cola Bottling Factory and train tracks are only a few miles away from here.  This is only a few hundred miles away. That is only a few thousand miles away.  On 39th and Williams the prospect of jumping on a freight train with nothing but my bag and bike seemed so reachable – as I slowly realized the transcendental beauty in this infatuation.  So, 39th and Williams lie track sto hear and there; to impoverished industries all the way to Columbus and Broadway, roughly.  Columbus and Broadway – where the literary pioneers rest in peace and rest upstairs, just up the steep stairs of City Lights.  City Lights rain over Tosca.  Tosca, Trieste, Vesuvios.  Remember at 5am pulling suitcases up and down the streets?  Never have I seen such a beautiful

by Me 08

sunflower, some how surviving with the busy steps of the lonesome crowded west.  East, dividing what’s old, what’s new; damn these tattered words.  So, this sunflower stuck in the fence.  This sutra. My Ginsberg collection falling straight to those words.  These travelers, always wandering, wondering…. these days it’s all I can focus on my mind on.
These undiscovered parts of Denver, so bland. So fucking bland comparatively.  To discover what this unsettled, spontaneous mindset is, was, simply cannot be covered.
The days cruising down Broadway. I always wondered, besides the incredible monogamous relationship I’m in, what did those afternoons mean. What a god damn paradox of sexual fantasy.
At 2 AM, hotel room of Speer and Zuni, absolute shit, I tried to stay warm and god forbid, stay safe. I waited for Dan to do his laundry. So there we were and there we were for seven more days trying to find comfortable places to sleep.  These city lights that bleed off onto those with appeal to the stretches of road going nowhere, abandoned school buses and outdated billboards, is this what America is made of; lust, love, constrast, what the hell is

culture?  This dicothomy of us and them.
I want to get lost in potence, rare aphrodisiacs, in the unknown…just as ambiguous as the man who didn’t take his hand off his walking stick all the way from Emeryville, California to Chicago, Illinois; as I was running to my next train, I cannot say much.  Although, wine and cheese is quite a treat after less-than-mediocre coffee.
I cannot believe how after all this, why was I so fucking jaded for six months?  How can a system, a uniform education route, cause one to lose touch with essence, with desolation…. this means discovery can be obtained more than once…subconsciously through these dreams and visions.

By pbo31