gratuitous art films event at jimmy's diner.

Gratuitous Art Films Gratuitously presents the Gratuitous Art Film Event
Dec 4th
at Jimmy's Diner
577 Union Ave
Brooklyn, NY
near the Lorimer stop of the L train
3 dollar beers!

"Sobredosis de la abuela" by Ovulo Punk

Find out more about Gratuitous art Films
www.gratuitousartproductions.com

rain comes and goes

it’s warm enough
you wouldn’t freeze to death
if you got wet.
i didn’t bring an umbrella.
they are a liability in light rain.
umbrellas in the hands of pedestrians
are as deadly as freezing weather.

birds are lively.
streets washed clean.
trees are just thinking 
about what it takes
to make a bud.

yesterday in Brooklyn
we walked past an old asylum
bordered by a park and sprawling projects.
it’s hard to tell what the complex is used for now
and easy to tell it isn’t a good place.

the trees by a shut-up building
all want to get away.
hop the fence
flee in a tangled run.

here in front of st. mark’s church
i sit on a bench
safe between trees.
pigeons dance
and flap
and peck the cobbles.

the trees stand tall
and exult
in the prospect of coming spring.

mind y'own bizness

 


ride the 4 express to 125 and lex
get out and walk to the busstop
just miss a crosstown

an agitated man
near the busstop
yells across the street
‘you got to mind y'own bizness’
he hops slightly when he does it
to propel the words implicitly

i dont see the target
of his venom

i look around
wonder why this guy’s upset
he seems so serious
it’s hard to believe

another man appears
walks through cars 
stopped at the light

‘you got to mind y'own bizness’
‘i got nothing to do with this’

the second man gestures
away all connection
says his business is his own
as the first man’s is his own

‘you got to mind y'own bizness’

the second man nears
this side of the street

the first man walks
to a nearby van
and slides the side door

he reaches fast inside
his hand emerges heavy
with the black shape
of a gun

125th street is dramatic 
and exceptional
broad and open
lined by closed chain stores
the space is large
and big things happen here
it offers little cover
 
the second man renews
his plaintive claim
that the first man is plainly
mistaken and the second man
apologises for the confusion

he should have stayed
on the other side of the street

i refuse
to be caught
in another man’s
crossfire

i stride purposefully cursing
under my breath
glance back and listen
to gauge the situation

i turn the corner and hear
‘you got to mind y'own bizness’

as i walk the block north
i look twice at the cop car across the avenue
and turn west on 126

nevermind the bus
i’ll just walk

after park ave my pace 
slowed to usual stroll
through harlem home
nine blocks and 4 avenues away
to eat supper and chalk it up 
to 
one night i saw a gun 

snow again

past the middle of march
good, cold, wet.
i am pleasantly underdressed.
scarf and gloves and hood.

trees are white
with dark wooden shadows.

snow on each block
has a different pattern
   of fall.

yesterday when i went out
the sun was shining warm
and the air felt fresh.

still i had my hoodie,
scarf and hat in my backpack.
i didn’t know it would snow.

here it is
adorning traffic
and passersby.

an elemental component of the landscape
in a transient state.

i enjoy it
as much as anyone
who throws a snowball.

to build a fire

when it’s coldest
i stoke the fire in the night
home from town
after coffee
or television with friends
the only choices

grampa has an outdoor wood furnace
most days it needs to be filled twice.
it warms water that runs in pipes
underground to the basement.
air is blown over hot pipes and distributed
through dusty loud ductwork.
my room is furthest from the furnace.
the coldest room.

there is a small cinderblock building
twenty yards from the house
situated so the door of the furnace opens
inside the building.
it was constructed to hold wood.
that rarely happens.

there’s always been a woodpile
in the yard.  
  the little shed is filled
with empty beehives, 
supers piled high to the trusses,
stored til they’re needed 
          come summer.

the furnace simplifies things.
daily maintenance is minimal.

dirt and smoke and ash
are kept out of the house
along with the hazard of fire.

the second coldest night of the year
the bottom door of the furnace got left open.
everything in the firebox burnt up quick.
the bottom door is for removing ashes.

grampa shovels them into metal buckets.
when the buckets are full
he spreads ashes on the garden
or the sidewalk if it’s slick
to melt what can.

it felt cold in the house.
14.7 degrees.
night before was 5.
i went out to check on the fire.

when i opened the door
there was one dim cinder
agleam in a bed of ash
at the back end of the furnace.

i rooted around in the brooder house
til i found three empty dogfood bags.
paper for the burning.

i pried small woodscraps and twigs 
from the frozen ground.
no snow.  just intense cold.

with three strike-anywheres
i set to warm the chill.

i arranged paper and kindling
bark and leaves
as a foundation to rebuild the fire.

i enjoyed the pop
   of a strike-anywhere
match on a cinderblock
and began the complicated process
of coaxing flames from none.

i lit the first bag.
it took a couple matches.
while i waited to see
if the fire’d take
i filled the wheelbarrow
from the woodpile.

outside
i looked at the crisp moon,
clear stars
and crackling black branches.
sky’s clean when it’s coldest
moon makes flashlight obsolete.

i think i got a little moonburn.

i got something of a fire going
with the application of the third
saved-for-a-last-ditch-gamble-paper-dogfood-bag
 (large)
and last strike-anywhere.
entropy won out.

i went in
to wait for the new fire
to keep my room
from getting colder.

it was barely fifty in the house
when i went to the kitchen
and looked out the window
(one of my favorite pastimes)
at the furnace
thinking to assist
the fire by willpower 
and lurid blue moonlight.

around 5:30 i heard grampa rustling around.
it was cold
and we attacked the fire again.
something was still amiss.

grampa built a fire.
i filled buckets in the kitchen sink
carried them out
and poured them into the top of the furnace
like filling the boiler of a locomotive.

the intense mistaken fire
got so hot 
and burned so quick
it cooked off most of the water
in the furnace.

it refills itself.
or it’s supposed to.
such drastic fluctuations are hard
for it to keep up with.

i don’t know how many armfuls
of water i poured
from the third rung
of a broken wooden stepladder
propped against the slick
stainless steel exterior
of the furnace.
an interminably pouring
bucket brigade
      of one.

by late afternoon
the water’d been refilled long enough
to rise to the predetermined
temperature required to transfer heat
through its insulated subterranean path
into the basement.

the house warmed up.

problems with the furnace
come when it’s coldest.

humidity

last night brian put the coffeepot
on the parlor-size woodstove
and flipped the lid back on its hinges
to sit open– 
  not for coffee
to put a little moisture in the air–

we burn wood from pallets
we break with a heavy castiron counterweight
for a large window–
      we also burn
scraps from dumpsters–things found
on the street–leftovers from construction
or demolition–the bequest of luck
or looking–easy kindling–
nothing so substantial as the rings
wrapped in a tree–
   all through the time
grandma and grampa had an indoor woodstove
there sat a two-handled shallow aluminum pan
regularly filled with water
run into a quart mason jar
     and poured
into a flat pan for increased surface area–

moisture infused into the house
to compensate for water lost
when wet particles collide
with the firebox and stovepipe 
and dry the air–

the Dead Sea evaporates–
salt makes crystalline formations
where water once stood
the most buoyant in the world–

the house rests
near the summit
on a soft sidewinding ridge–
a limestone foothill
of what becomes the Ozarks–
mountains sunken so old
they lack the stature
of more than hills–
topography built
on limestone foundations–

the well runs deep
400 feet to pierce
the water table–
strata honeycombed
by water
and weight of land–

as water from the flat pan
evaporates
calcium deposits, 
caught in solution
and piped upward
to the top of the ridge,
in the hard water
produce crystalline formations
on the sides and bottom
of the pan–
  the formations
are thin and brittle
like stalactites
in dripping caverns–

tonight, in Brooklyn, 
when i started 
a kindling blaze,
braced by heavier scraps,
i added water–
       in the coffeepot
steam forms slowly
to escape
in unpredictable circles
that rise
like heat–

presently

it is a beautiful morning
sun and birds are seen

birds sing spring
sun melts snow

an amazing green
shines from the trees

buds come out
to show spring
in three days