. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Thursday, March 11, 2010

My Corner's Thoughts on a Lonely Night

Another poem from some of those long dark days in Denver...



Orange shadows move across my wall as if
the wallpaper were slipping sideways along the brick
in the post-dusk light
darker because of the rain desperately seeking my attention on
the oversized windows

I am confined in the corner,
a defeated boxer waiting sullenly for the next round,
for the bell to remind me of where I am,
try to feel excited to be alive

Listening to the conversations through the wall
and waiting for the next passing car to make the light dance
my dogs a fury of teeth and snarls that could
go on for hours beside me
oblivious to them

The heater hasn’t kicked on in days
my appetite matches the mood of this dreary room
and somewhere
somewhere
a baby cries
or is it just my imagination as sirens drown around in the city outside
where I’m missing out on everything

There’s more beyond the ropes,
at ringside, in the bleachers, in the world
I’m missing out
my heart is heavy and presses me into the bed like an anchor of loneliness
that bed unmade because my life isn’t there yet
nothing’s begun but everything moves on
and I feel like I’m being left behind
in this room where the world stops

Tomorrow is usually a different moment
the shadows have been still like the purple swollen lip of my mind
no one’s driving tonight
by the passing of long hours my eyes have counted on the wall
pressing my fingers to my face I think,
I need to be cut.

5.11.05


4 comments:

  1. Yes.. Denver.. but c'mon, mug, read that heading right about the picture... it's usually some explanation as to the origins of the poem or some such thing... but yes, lovely Denver.

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  2. lovin that corner, b.

    ReplyDelete