No punk today, no little bohemia; no drunken reverie, communion, or waifish barmaids. All the greats gone, and then some (GG ALLEN or Kurt, perhaps the official end.) No barmaids squabbling over notoriety instead of fame in some looser. No GAS STATION, no cbgb (I got thrown out for inaptness or just crazy at the end.) No poetic laceration, no new art movement or next expressionism. Movie's shuffling aside and technocrats and apartment towers. Vice president in tribeca, and so-ho always so-ho, tight. No punk today. No more lower east side for the inpecuiouse. No more romantic painters van gough or jackson or modigliani, much less basquiat. All over.
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