Sometimes when my eyes are red
I go up on the top of the RCA building
And gaze at my world, Manhattan –
My buildings, streets I’ve done feats in,
Lofts, beds, cold water flats –
On Fifth Ave below which I also bear in mind,
Its ant cars, little yellow taxis, men
Walking the size of specks of wool.
My Sad Self, Allen Ginsberg
If I don’t drive round the park,
I’m pretty sure to make my mark.
If I’m in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again,
If I abstain from fun and such,
I’ll probably amount to much,
But I shall stay …
… the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.
Observation, Dorothy Parker
A drop of water is all I need
To hollow the rock they mounted,
Suddenly, I see some waterfalls
And this time I never doubted.
I see some Waterfalls, Joel F.
Sept heures et demi du matin métro de Montréal
C’est plein d’immigrants
Ca se lève de bonne heure
Ce monde-là
Le vieux coeur de la ville
Battrait-il donc encore
Grâce à eux
Ce vieux coeur usé de la ville
Avec ses spasmes
Ses embolies
Ses souffles au coeur
Et tous ses défauts
Et toutes les raisons du monde …
… qu’il aurait
De s’arrêter
De renoncer.
Tango de Montréal, Gérald Godin
Photographies by May Bucilliat