Observations of a New York Summer by Livia Blum

IV. Four is an Unlucky Number

At some point the twists of unconventional symbolism are no longer relevant.

Da dada da [how do you create music without sound]

And then later there was a single moment when [aFTeR SHe HaD KiLLeD Me FouR4444 TiMeS] all of us in our broken dignity stopped and looked upward with the birds towards a sound.

WHAT IF THIS NEVER EXISTED: how do i [blah blah blah fuck all of it]

                                                     create music without sound

how easily we remember the things we want to forget and forget the things we want to remember.


V. This is the reason i have already lost everything.

In the interest of time, i decided to skip the sunset starlight and just take the red line home.


IV. It is July 3rd and we are trying to save ourselves.

We speak

                        [we are lost]


[this is--                                                                                   ]

Nothing and everything

                        Still look like tree branches.

            Slow movement in the sunlight.

            Broken bird wings in the snow.


IV. The Highline

A Moment of Honest Observation:

            creativity is not a category.

            it is easy to be alone in this city.

the steps i take echo hundreds of steps once taken.

we are Never the first to feel a feeling.

            we Never were and we Never will be.

my sadness grows on the grave plots of

thousands of Women

who once





What did you remember when the world fell apart?

                                    [ there are millions of us. and how often we die and how viciously we live.


                                      stupidly we love and how violently we hate. how quickly we get lost and


                                      how much we lose because we lose so much so that even our feet are lost


                                            eyelashes and our hair the us’s that we send to the moon the us’s

that we send                                         to the sea the us’s that we shoot with our guns who

are not us’s but THEM’s the       books we burn the stars we dye the trees we cut the

resolutions we lose in sidewalk

                                    cracks so many millions of us are-]


You did not hear me?

no. i didn’t.

What did you remember when the world fell apart?

oh. the train i think. and the way it rumbled.


VIII. A new understanding that is not so new

slow down but hurry.

hurry but please please stop.

The Breaking Apart of Our World is Equal in Catastrophe to the Small Things We Lose Everyday.

Time. and such


IV. The End of This One

3 [on New Year’s it was foggy and for a moment it rained]

6 [is the number that comes in dozens]

5 [When Liesl turned 16 it was the beginning when she was 16 going on 17 there was Hitler when she turned 17]

This is the end of 16. I am growing up.


V. 8/20 & The End of the Beginning and the Beginning of the End

In spite of it all, and in relentless rain, we looked out at the city lights and found some reason.

It is the same as it was. The Butterfly Dance.

[i am so close and we are --]

spinning. turning.