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Callaloo 25.1 (2002) 201-202

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David Meltzer

Start a new world a new day buy a two-bit bag of biscotti at Green Street Italian bakery, then get free coffee from poet counterman Bob Stock at the

Co-Existence Bagel Shop:

Chris Maclaine in sporty tweed cap speeds into audio range w/ hipster murmurs to the Bellsons already there; the Vignes (Dion & Lorelei) frazzle in their sizzle against the wall, something's going down; Mike Nathan, Bobby Fischer of painting, ambles in, twitchy laugh, hair scythe cleaves face; Hube the Cube's reads the morning Chronicle in yet another new orbit of comic chemic roulette, cigarettesmoke turns his beard into redwood; hungover Tom Albright croaks significance to Irene Taverner, Bird's U.K. penpal; Paddy O'Sullivan gums croissant, silk cape frayed, tricorner hat smashed, its plume bent; Patricia Marx blue eyes you don't lie to, she said "I want to kiss you to see how it feels," an experiment, eros empirically shopping; Lyle Tollefson skids in w/ Leonard Hull hatching another put-on maybe this time on the Muni; Kaufman bent out of shape after a couple of nights in a holding tank worked over by Bigarini; Micheline pisses beer on Green Street corner; across the street the Duncan-Spicer contingency w/ Joanne & Nemi drawing the boys upward & out; Bad Talkin' Charlie Dawkins carving fetishes; Joe Overstreet w/ a stack of sketches under his arms; Manuel Neri & Pete Farakis in their basement studio under Trieste, big action paintings blaze against cement walls & papier-mache scultures of humans & animals all over the place, KJAZ loud echo; Bob Alexander on the upswing, shaved head, black horn-rimmed glasses, leather wristband, doesn't miss a thing; Jay Bagel wearily counting the receipts; Leo Krekorian serves beer to noon beats at The Place; Linda Lovely turns any room into a Speed Graphic freeze-frame panoramic photo; Cowboy finally parks the slowest heap on the planet & ambles out, horn in bag, exhaling; Eric Nord's got two underage chicks on his large lap; Father Pierre descends from Bread & Wine Mission to bless his parish; Victor Wong does espresso then crosses Columbus into Chinatown whistling "Donna Lee"; Bob Marquese bebop bassplaying sadsack Eyore; Don Graham, full beard, draped in large trenchcoat, paces, hands behind back, in Discovery,then kneads his face, his beard, talking of Agape & Eros, Dostoevsky, Neihbur, Kierkegaard; Sandy, Don Martin's chick, sexpot combat cookie, chews on my ear in Washington Square Park; Bill Weisjahn (piano), Max Hartstein (bass), Frank Phipps (valve trombone), Sonny Nelson (drums), sometimes Leo Wright (alto, flute), house-band at The Jazz Cellar & Carla Bley's squeezing through the narrows with drinks on a tray, Bob Briggs behind the bar; Matt Vidaver's suave intelligence & irk; [End Page 201] Guy Wernham (poet, translator, writer, Red) bartender at the Anxious Asp, chewing on cigarette holder w/ red punkt burning butt; Miss Smith's Tea Room before there was a Coffee Gallery; Shig in the City Lights turret; LeBlanc fresh from a NY ad agency divesting all for Tao; Mad Marie between giggles reminds us of her Mafia connections; Swanson walked off Nord's party pad roof happily oblivious to swan songs; conga wizard Milt in between shifts washing dishes; Lasnier hammered the silver of our full circle; Henri Lenoir, continental maestro of Vesuvio's, a letch enchanter in black beret, teeth clenched on dark wood burl cigarette holder; Bob Seider, porkpie hat, lazy loaded eyes, blows sleepy "All of Me" at Bop City dawn jam; David Rafael Wang, caped, looking for Sherry Martinelli for Pound takes; John Chance throws three pennies on the table for my first I-Ching read-out; Ju Ju corners Weiners for signifying in Wentley; Nemi Frost soft creamy round body, Chanel, turpentine; Lee & idell in Portrero hill pad, grass hermetic yoga, all its devotees instant statues; shark smooth Lenny Monroe's sportscar pulls up to the Bagel Shop door looking to score; Don Crawford's pad above the pasta factory, upright bass & banjo, jazz on the hi-fi; nomads from the East coast frequent as mail; Bremser upstairs at The Place...