for Ted Berrigan & Alice Notley the bridges of Chicago are not the bridges of Paris or the bridges of Amsterdam except they are a definition almost no one bothers to define like life full of surprises in what now looks to be the oldest modern American city o apparition of the movie version
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|Colony||The Ragdale Foundation||Illinois|
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(“and the people live till they have white hair”)
E. M. Price
The dry brown coughing beneath their feet,
(Only for a while, for the handyman is on his way)
These people walk their golden gardens.
We say ourselves fortunate to be driving by today.
To the Williamson Brothers
High noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of motors. Women trapsing along in flimsy clothes catching play of sun-fire to their skin and eyes.
Inside the playhouse are movies from under the sea. From the heat of pavements