Wednesday, March 12, 2008

of streetlamps

i've always admired
the inherent beauty
of streetlamps
and the brightness
they cast in the dark.

they know not
the hazards of bumming
cigarettes that kill
men with fatal breath,
tragic necessity.

they serve to illuminate
the frost and the drink,
for the girl
who tramps hopelessly
on the barren sidewalks they lie.

their truth takes form,
quietly singing
for the vagabond
who relies on a shelter
only light can provide.

how warm, these lamps
on which i speak
of my affection
and undying devotion.
how softly they shimmer

and forgive.

unaware of such brilliance,
robbed of forgiveness,
i would find myself lost.
deep in a cruel terrain
of night.

What the fuck does Robert Frost know?

I

Today I’m not afraid to leave the house
It is cold but I have cigarettes to smoke
I thought it was Monday, to which I close my eyes
But Tuesday, alas, stay open wide
With arms that grow long and bright


II

Today I’m not afraid to leave the house
It is cold but I have cigarettes to smoke
Beyond a fence, I see from inside
A fever breeze sick with the fits
Shake surly flakes from its perspiring head


III

Today I am not afraid to leave the house
It is cold but I have cigarettes to smoke
Beyond the fence, a sigh drools casually
Outside suggests an old season dies
Inside a new reign begins


IV

Still today I am not afraid to go outside
It is cold but hope holds up my sky
For If I sleep and gaze not on suns rise
I’d sooner forget Nature
does not need me to survive.

For sienna and flesh hugs me as victim of flush
And “blood” can not capture this
Description only mammals can name
Categorizing sensation with word like “sublime”
To delicately frame the sunset’s limitless paint


V

I am unafraid
Now to step one foot outside
It is cold yes
But today I have prepared
Cigarettes to soak up time

And when smoke,
Like youth
Foams forth from the estuary
Betwixt my tongue
I’ll go back inside

My self
However grotesque
Will know
Nothing of sublime.
Only true bliss.