Margot Wood

Would-be messages from the East Village, in 140 characters or less.

Instructions from the Muse

“Tweet!” the birdie cried. “I am tweeting,” the surly poet
replied. “Tweet! Tweet!” “Look, you dumb… sparrow, I
just told you…” “Tweet!”

A Serious Mutt

Would I be caught dead showboating in that dog run
across the street? Nyet. I’m not some pansified “pet”
pawing the air for adoring looks,

I’m here on important business: Waiting for my Master
to exit the Tompkins Square Library with his usual dose
of videos and books

We ♥ Poets!

Ginsberg’s E. 10th St. apt. gutted; O’Hara’s @ 441 E. 9th
unmarked; the plaque outside Auden’s home on E. 8th
gets the dates wrong

Observer With Cataracts

He finds it hard to not be trivial. He skims, he skates, past
the same stores & faces. Epitaph: “He was not convivial,
& he left no traces”

Materialism

He’s stuck with it, a life of fabricated purpose and no
God. Mud encrusted with jewelry stores. His Western
inheritance, along with not

knowing how to dance. Temples, mosques, are alien, and
the Church does not speak. “Maybe,” he thinks, “It’s
time to speak to It”

Problem Solved

Pilates, Yoga, Zen. What then? What then? Why, a bite at
Momofuku, of course. Then home to check the
NASDAQ, the Nikkei, and the Bourse

Twitterholic

On 2nd Av @ 10th robbing CHASE!!!! (Hate that place.)
Bagged over 100 G’s so far abt 10 secs to bust out B4 the
cops show. Oh, crap….

Memo from a Green Condo

Henry, my Personal Blogger, has taken up with Lisa, my
Personal Trainer, who is monkeying around with Zelda,
my Personal Organizer, who

has a thing going with Cicciotto, my Life Coach, who (a)
ripped off my screenplay and (b) seduced my masseuse.
Bastards! Traitors! Scum!

In Tompkins Square Park

Tom Verlaine sat on this bench. Probably sat on this
bench. Like a lot of others with a dream & a tune. Only
he was composing “Marquee Moon”