Mannahattas PS 69

Mannahattas had bounty and shrieking acrimony, such is holy matrimony,

Oscar Wilde, been married, been harried,

Two beautiful sons, distinguished,

Walt Whitman, astute, and declaring, taking a Louis Armstrong trombone, trumpet, and next to nothing cornet,

Knew of woman, firm and solemn, a vagabond gypsy love from above,

What in Walt’s day were skyscrapers.

Classes could be held in a skyscraper, not only of the executive privilege, commanding view landscape or portrait monolith megalomaniac type,

But down in the harbors of the Hudson, where oyster beds, and Oyster Bay, and oyster aphrodisiac, full of shellac, as on a skyscraper, paint and hungover, little rings of lightning,

Each skyscraper a watertower, an antennae, of insect origin, held high, Among a digital analogue reminder of misty ghosts floating high,

We looked to the love and the hope, as Walt to bounti of mutiny down it swish harbor harpoon manic

9 East 71st Street, street theater, street magic, panic, big thrusting love,

not so bad…