deepundergroundpoetry.com

in a city with no harbor.

"...this is how he learnt so well
to take the roses for his meat."

                  -wb yeats
                        ...      
                                    ...


in a city with no harbor.
because i was tired.
because he was neutral. fainéant.
because i was much too american and less and less.
because my blood was warm as spit, green as brass ,
majestically demure in tall grass. O
sober as a sabre. smoking filters backwards.
counting no-leaf clovers too closely.
counting stars in daylight brightly.
counting feathers as they scatter.
and leaves as they lick lackadaisically,
the wind and ground in shadow always.

yawning upwards slyly
t' shave my head sideways and luv-red
to best spite spitefully
the bedbugs and busybodies blinking beastly
always myways.

in a city, a soundscape,
with no airports nor music muchly,
no interiors or escape for strangers
from the eyes and faces of neighbor(e)s.





Written by Caliban_Dregs (Cal)
Published | Edited 1st Jun 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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