You said you needed fast architectures, angular weight, something made from blue collared hands. Chiding, maybe even presumptuous, to think it’s better down town in the throw of giants. Literal maps & taxi planes pacing routes and ventricles; if it rises, it shrinks, it if rises, if it rose. Tempo now my dear, that moves allegro ab aeterno. Sodium never sleeps and sleep isn’t about rest but taking time out of time. Cocktailed hours, small holes, the brush and bruise of feet; when narrative rates higher than trees or green minority, it’ll lift you from the gutter if you can get past the doorman. Time and steady hands babel the world in the word.

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Len Shneyder lives in San Francisco & is completing his M.F.A. in poetry at SFSU. In his spare hours he works full time, teaches part time at Chabot College, & engages in all forms of frolic and merrymaking. Len was the recipient of the 2003 William F. Dickey Fellowship & runner-up for the Anne Fields Prize in 2005. His translations have appeared in Brenda Hillman's Pieces of Air in the Epic.

Other works on Sidebrow: Sutro Heights