A poem is a city A poem is a city filled with streets and sewers filled with saints, heroes, beggars, madmen, filled with banality and booze, filled with rain and thunder and periods of drought, a poem is a city at war, a poem is a city asking a clock why, a poem is a city burning, a poem is a city under guns its barbershops filled with cynical drunks, a poem is a city where God rides naked through the streets like Lady Godiva, where dogs bark at night, and chase away the flag; a poem is a city of poets, most of them quite similar and envious and bitter … a poem is this city now, 50 miles from nowhere, 9:09 in the morning, the taste of liquor and cigarettes, no police, no lovers, walking the streets, this poem, this city, closing its doors, barricaded, almost empty, mournful without tears, aging without pity, the hardrock mountains, the ocean like a lavender flame, a moon destitute of greatness, a small music from broken windows … a poem is a city, a poem is a nation, a poem is the world …
Posted on: Wed, 04 Dec 2013 23:11:08 +0000
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