there is no need for debt or debate when one does not mean anything to anybody
the important point is not to break the chain  to be polite – to say yes & thank you
to be accommodating  to supplement even supplant desires – to persist – consomenations 
irritated whites drinking Negrons
ah butterfly the nemesis is you  - short life spans colliding
               perhaps all life changing as you change
         encounter & encompass grief – hear the flutter of 100,000
                       the sonic tracks of a silent film     
                        the debt converted to smoke   
                       windows clouded over
                         city spitting clouds
                               that wedge
                                  between the arches
                                            of her
                                                    high heeled shoes

        i said i’m no longer afraid to look
                           shuttered windows – der wekstahlvez
                                    paper blowing across an empty street
                                              debt or depth or death
                                    which is it – all fool’s gold
                                          no matter what the substance
                                                    all duped no matter what the price..
werder da cat’s on its quiet pursuit
   the unrest of pigeons
           as the prison gates open & you are released like a steam engine
                       into the street – released from your oustem –
        & we walk like comrades & i pour the morning’s waste out of a bucket
                   as the crowd increases from single file to tenfold
                               rows up & down pathways / cobbles cabals cables
                                     stairways & staring soldiers marching
                                               the organ grinder playing
                                             the draw bridge near collapse
                                                     ah mariposa
                    the factory awaits its occupants – what is the debt they owe
                                we owe?  - heya-ah heya-ah heya-ah

a pipe – a moustache – the gears beginning to spin  in a world of mass production
                                      where things are produced for the masses
                 though some are only for the privileged few
                                finely shaved & polished shards of steel
                     infinite bottles filled  & loaves fresh baked
                                          fires stoked    
                           chimneys pushcarts / loaded
                                cars washed  - garbage disposed of
(yet always more garbage) – days always beginning
                children off to school if the season’s right
weggelerollerda  window gates up  schlachterha - mer                      
                            curtains up
      blinds up – mannequins – horses – up – pillows aired – blinders on
rugs beaten – butter flies remembering what they were then forgetting
just as quickly – shoes shined – nails polished
a beautiful walk thru the park at night
the band playing – the globe changing  (color)
junkies all quietly tucked away somewhere
dancers as graceful as flowers
crack one legged crutch man
no stories about war or war stories
just elevator rides and roll-top desks
typewriters telephones & the printing press
operator operator i am coming to the end of a tunnel
the light is beginning to spread
the evacuation of the dirt that is my heart is in full swing
at all other times i will dial 311
the barber smiles
the sound of lighting a cigarette on a singing man’s knee
like achtspracht breathing
no debt  no debate – grief for the moment everlasting

fly away mariposa – away your colorful wings
the naked children are here only to exploit you
                             to explore you
                  to touch your fascinating wings -
it was even shorter than anticipated – a quick beautiful twin burst
         too short & me preoccupied with 3 different lives
                  & she flew torn & traumatized she flew
but cacophony calculation dark spectrum debt ceiling & me indebted to few men
          heart strumming – cycles – disposing of the evenings waste
one stage is flying great distances to approach the indecipherable
      travelling lord i’m travelling tryin to make heaven my home
   rocks – next – i can’t begin to tell you how it looks from where i sit
                              lamp trim & burning
       end time                                                dream time
               indecipherable redness that reflects an obvious exit
                                desperation on every corner
              i can’t begin to tell you mariposa –even from here
               in this parking lot there is a history of butterflies
                               guns money jelly rolls
          just as there is a history of lost pages – gaps in memory
                       always lost here in this same cocoon
                              there is for me @ any rate
             the mystery of a smile & why it occurs or when
                 in all these photographs i look so pensive
                          angry, disturbed but rarely smiling – all bare knuckled
                                 & @ the end i must shed my cocoon
                   in a tunnel without end where depth & ceiling are one
                             as they press in upon me-
nemesis – is me oh butterfly – coal dust - the price i put on things 
   & i can’t begin to tell you where it all began
        but look there & there & there & there
                 & you’ll begin to see the end.

Steve Dalachinsky   nyc