Beatniks Berlin bumtrips: A poem recorded in Victoria Park.

Walking through Berlin looking at colors

☉ I. The Chair and the Woman

There’s a woman who looks like a tattered old chair.

She’s a fabulous creature

with thick green socks way up over thick as renaissance fair turkey meat calves

a rock medallion as the necklace

Everything is worn enough that it seems made—

the way that mold comes on to things

and then seems new and made by natural

So fresh and vital

Maybe it’s the way

that the sun can catch on a cigarette

look the same white as a full body sweatsuit

and dangle the same way

Fabric drape

Cigarette limp on the lip

The sun light is a tight pussy

It’s also likes cheeks—

and they get fat and hold the sun

and dangle like a cigarette,

holding in the sun.

Maybe the same thing

As body holding sun in this almost empty Library parking lot holding this woman

A place to rest

with the rock medallion and the green socks worn with calm shell sandals.

I think just because they fit her swollen feet,

and her face has transformed

into a 1930s snowman cartoon.

And she’s bending over in the full snow avalanche,

and her green socks are coming up,

and they feel real and new and alive—

the way the mold does when it’s on old things outside….