
As the story unfolds, we start learning more about the freelance photo scene in NYC in the 1970’s. Music magazines, clubbing, drugs, disco and more dominated with freelancers scrabbling to pay the bills, get high and maintain their status.

As the story unfolds, we start learning more about the freelance photo scene in NYC in the 1970’s. Music magazines, clubbing, drugs, disco and more dominated with freelancers scrabbling to pay the bills, get high and maintain their status.

As the prose work continues, I see this as a great way to explore the poetic form. Combining POV and inner monologue in a free form way.
Dad carried the box
Under leaden skies.
Abigail wept as we
Burbled to the hole.
Black, forever dirt
Piled and waiting
For us to deliver
Her Forever.
Shield to my step.
Champion of rock, road and grass.
Rubber soled lover.
I cheat on you with another.
You, my Right, my first lead me out as she follows.

You the kicker, the striker, the pivot as Left bides her time in lock step adoration waiting for you to falter to take the lead.
Bark ripped, ax blade heart
Hate harridan, blamer, badgerer, baby-cutting, twice-barbed tongue kisser
86 toxic years too many
dusty shack slunk on hill
2 many cars come and go
i arm in silence

Troopers choked in bramble memory, jungle-wrapped fences, seats and track burst with rusted racers.
Ghosted in silent shrine.
Voices roared once, hearts leapt, sweat stung, winners and losers gone to distant grey forever lights.
Dream hard-edged flashes
Teacup shattered memories of
Brittle bric-a-brac
QUICK, QUICK, QUICK
Glue the shards
Paste hopes and still-born dreams
Daylight brings leaking, scarred
Headaches
Sleep never kind nor whole
LA (dash) A won’t pay rent at the flea market no more there’s no money in weaves they ain’t come to the store
Told Jose the Collector he could get bent she don’t got the cash she ain’t got the rent
Jose worked up at night a very quick plan and robbed her locked booth with his old buddy Stan
They grabbed all the falls, the hairpieces and wigs selling out of their cars with their other pal Riggs
LA (dash) A got told that them selling her stock and shot both Jose and Stan in the cock
Riggs pulled a niner and killed LA (dash) A dead at the funeral her own wigs done covered her head
She stalks in bleach brittle blame
Knowing each button to push – to shame
Tears flow with easy twist
Eagles glare, her subtle wrist
Twisting each ask in painful glory
We bend easy to her folly