"It's all the same to me", "city dreams" and some news

Hello! So I must admit there has been a decline in output of my writing recently. I've just started graduate school, so I am a little overwhelmed by the constant staccato rhythm of assignments, and I don't have too much time to write. I have managed to start another blog, which you can find at http://themolecularbasis.com/

It's more of a personal blog, filled with lots of idle recollections and philosophical nonsense that I churn out as I navigate through the beginnings of my life in science. I am almost sure to update that far more regularly than this blog, but expect to see stuff here eventually.

As for writing, I've been working on a couple of things. One is my story about the physicist that I constantly allude to, but never produce. The other is a new story about death and the nature of memory. I'll finish them someday, I hope! For now, I present two poems, the first is "It's all the same to me", which I wrote on my experiences in NYC thus far. The second is "city dreams", which is more or less about the intrusion of this place on my subconscious. I hope you enjoy them.

"It's all the same to me"


We wandered in the waning daylight world
Within the always warbling, gaslight sky
Before the sun finally stole away
And hid from us
And died

We entered recklessly the first of three
A bar in midtown, lit with sullen tones
With the most beautiful, perfect men
And all their girls
And I

Where the songs are fewer than just ten
And all the people dress like mannequins
They come fresh, clean, and lively from the store
And there I am
Alive at last

A panoply of colored lights and sounds
Reminds me of the place in east SoHo
Which was exactly like the little place downtown
Or was it not?
I’ve got no clue

And I am laden with the burden of
Three twenties and a core of rushing blood
Which curses me for what I do to it
To find a way
To be myself

And I will never get to know your name
A fact more hidden than the strangest, deadly truth
Of who built Stonehenge, who shot JFK
Because I hide
I am afraid

We leave again before I reach the point
Where anguish overcomes my need for love
The rumbling bass is nothing on the wind
A cloud of smoke
A pretty face

Then hours spent gliding within the night
In blackness, trapped, inside an empty car
Which with a certainty moves back and forth
And so do I
Never quite home

I close my eyes, still lonely, on my bed
With swirling worlds of alcoholic grief
Still screaming for the solemn touch of flesh
And there I am
Alive at last


"city dreams"

i take to bed ragged
and fall with haste to naught
to swim the oceans of my madness
in this cold forgetful place
where i am nothing among you
even less within myself
deep sleeping restlessness
will bring me to your space
to crowded listless cityscapes
and walks that touch my base
jumbled figures, empty streets
that glisten in the tired night
the path from here to nothing
or elsewhere in your embrace
burn out the thoughts of green
and turn them all to grey
solid iron and the smell of blood
heavy eyes when i awake