THE BIZARRE BAZAARS

I would like to go there, to go there where I saw the bizarre bazaars. Shops and tables, wares and sellers and patrons both- even still at dusk, - looking around. The view from the curbs show silhouettes, - and one of those people could be a great poetess, mystical and enchanted, but just jaded and secular enough to be grounded, - walking there. Or, - an old saint. Or, something, - something different, eccentric, unique, - and the biggest thing is that they don’t know it. Yes, - I would like to go along all that area, - in four directions, for the better part of an afternoon. Experience the subterfuge and the truth both of it all. The House of Astrology, and down the way,- the carpets,- carpets and clothing, talismans and ornaments from far off places,- or are they?- were they manufactured here?- I don’t know, or really mind- because the small light left from the dusky sun- it creates a shard or rather shines off a shard of glass,- or a bit of plastic. I see a blue,- a certain shade of blue I saw in Plexiglas once,- that made me feel something incredibly alive, perceptive- direct perception- can a color do that?- or a sound- a song? – can the clouds, yellow and blue, pink and orange,- as if lit up by inner lights,- even with the hydro lines and telephone poles around,- can that and the sky, the roofs and the rest- the people and nooks and crannies,- desks and odd tables of the bizarre bazaars,- make one to feel something light, something even sacrosanct,- not because it is so, against the very word,- sacred,- but precisely because it is normal, honest, true?- and after we will go to Burger King like in the old days and sit in the 1980’s booths- there is nobody there,- just a few workers,- and the glass is large, the sign still confident,- all the signs literal and figurative in fact,- are still confident, capable, auspicious, and readable even in the by then late hour of dusk.




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