tijuanagringo diaryablog 3 moon 33 winter 48 spaceage 23 januaryenero 2004 under construction today two p.m. and thenabouts thereabouts whenever thenabouts
Or, back in Tijuana
a broom tucked into its wire collar hanging hung from street sign where blue and white taxis leave Constitución for the tomb of Juan Soldado a broom that earlier today swept the sidewalk a broom that tomorrow will sweep again just as this pen scratches paper at breakfast just as these letters click later into keyboard cyberspace just as another taxi pulls away as I pass by its curb the broom will sweep just as - just as time, space, conjunction equal "just as" on the street in the city by the northern border line line line I see lines everywhere I go waiting for their taxi gathered in a broom lines of straw lines of human scratch scratch sweep sweep "subile subile" (get onboard, onboard) get onboard this page where people sweep past the woman on the corner begging for her giant, swollen foot toes like huge flesh nodes on a no no strophe, no anapest, ese elefantisis a rhythm of rest, one naked foot no shoe will ever fit and footsteps, footsteps, footsteps underneath the chatter and cry of street vendors & beggars dolor de piernas, dolor de pies aching legs, aching feet I have the cream you need try it try it now without cost or obligation sweet music of Spanish singing on the street harsh mararonic beat in my brain translating code-switching babel until I see that broom and suddenly hunger to sweep it all a w a y into this torrent of words scrawling up past the taxi sitio past the delicious sandwich shop (tortas sabrosas) past the struggling stoplights and klaxon whambamming traffic toward the internet cafe just beyond Bibi restaurant where I forgot my floppy disk last night or where I will eat breakfast omelette and scribble this torrent of babababababababbñlablab bla right off the right hand margin Oh God I Need To Write to sweep it all away broom broom broom the purge the endless hours of visions and revisions and toast and tea and poems that still aren¿t right write wrong ding dong typo let it stay yes no question about it except what are brooms made from if not the flesh of bloody conscience straw (or plastic fibers fibres) and wood and this word: "broom" (- E S C O B A -) they scratch and sweep away, erase leave clean their side.www.walk page what are pens made from plastic, ink, metal ball they scratch and scribble, mark down, leave cluttered their paper.xxx.walk what are keyboards made of your brain reading here via dialup cable wireless whatever EYES click klik - open wide sweep ah... delete me clean clean, clean again, sweet suite empty space mmmmmmm... "just as" oh... but, before, I forgot to tell you... I must tell you, there are also brooms made from big palm fronds every morning sweeping the park sidewalks across the street from my house in the West End of Tijuana only four blocks west from the broom I just saw that started all this bla bla bla four blocks west, where the soldado taxis turn right four blocks west, where I saw a load of olive green Mexican soldiers in their new dark Humvee "what do you mean, gringo, don't you mean a 'hummer'?" my landlord said when I told him Humvee four blocks west on that corner by the park where a tiny book and newspaper store sits within ancient metal doors they lock every night hiding tomorrow's journalism again to sweep the brain with no news from robots on Mars and popes who will never die .
