H e a r t   S o n s   &   H e a r t   D a u g h t e r s   of   A l l e n   G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m   H e a l t h   S p a :   R e p o r t   2 0 1 4 :   A r c h i v e s   E d i t i o n






Over Time Suite




I saw garbage gleaming in the sun

aluminum foil flattened into asphalt––

some worker’s sandwich wrappers,

a permanent part of the parking lot.

1/2 moon, almost 2 a.m.

at work


cleaning up for the big event––

only time a year

new hire’s like me

w/o seniority

can get time & a 1/2.

not fueling buses tonight;


scrubbed down a bunch

of blue-painted steel doors

w/ spray-can cleaner foam

& rags.

last couple hrs

been picking up trash

in the parking lot

where the big event

is to be held.

co-worker Chris is driving

the industrial floor

cleaning/street sweeper

machine around looking busy.

the foreman’s playing

solitaire on the computer

in the foreman’s station.

& the crickets are


you can see the orange

tip of Chris’ cigarette

light up as he draws on it

whenever he drives by––

the sound of the

machine gets loud

as he approaches

& then faint

as he circles

to the other end

of the parking lot





Sunday is carbon monoxide night.

the mechanics turn on every bus

in the garage & let em run

for what seems hours,

to see if they idle, I guess.

after awhile, you can

see the exhaust––

burns yr eyes.





Redemption through work.

Addicts w/ work ethics.

Artist w/ work ethics.

Addict & Artist as one.

synonymous ––



Transcending addiction

through art.



Work it out,

up, around,


like a cock in the cunt

of time.



Find the center

of gravity;

solar plexus pull.

write a poem on a bus

at work getting paid for it;


Sweat falling off

the worker’s face,

push-broom oblivion.

solitude in yr thoughts.

a smile on payday.

flirting w/ bank tellers.

passing notes.

plotting worker

revolution dreams

or at least a better

contract; arbitration.

Day Dream Nation : “I

totaled another amp,

I’m calling in sick.”

the real work

that it’s impossible

to get paid for;

then again, I’m on

the clock now

as I write this,

hiding on a bus

in the air conditioning

1 something a.m.

in a Transit

garage in New

jersey; overtime,

$16.20 an hour.

cut-price poets”:

Brecht on Broadway,

Hart Crane haunting

the docks looking

for the ghost

of John Wieners

behind the State


taking notes;


of mundane

daily activity

& worker



or just not


music in the

rumbling of an

engine, beauty

in the turning

of gears, fan-

belts & pulleys;

producing motion.

the getting to & from

back & forth.

Everything & everyone

must move.



6/10 & 11/2000



[Originally published in NHS 2008, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs08/Dave_Roskos.htm.]