After I read
I prop myself up on a book
and try to write.
Yesterday as I left the BART station
I saw a man acting as if (as we say)
at war with himself, commandeering
without wit, the opposite staircase
by the nightmare of his appearance.
He rocked his knees up in the air
while his ass bounced on the step.
Then his ass and knees were exchanged,
he was reaching for a brown p aper bag
drenched in pinkish red paint.
His hands were layered with it, and
the lower half of his face (except
for a Goyesque smile) gums almost
failing to meet teeth, mouth expanded
like Kronos devouring his children.
The lids of his eyes were full of
patient hope, as they came together
in a baby’s breath. but the latex
drops that covered his arms were as if
he had eaten his hands and the blood
exploded. I couldn’t picture his lungs.
The bag kept getting away from him.
On the step by his side stood a large
spray can diseased with the substance.
I asked myself what should I do with him.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Омар Хайям – Не горюй, что забудется имя твое
- The Melancholy of Birth
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, товарищи! От сбора продналога… (Главполитпросвет №284)
- Jobless by Rashmi
- To Leonide Massine in ‘Cleopatra’ by Siegfried Sassoon
- Little Clock by T. Wignesan
- Addressed To Miss Macartney, Afterwards Mrs. Greville, On Reading The Prayer For Indifference by William Cowper
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Мысль
- Владимир Высоцкий – Набросок песни к к/ф “Вооружён и очень опасен”
- Year’s End by Marilyn Hacker
- Fareweel To A’Our Scottish Fame by Robert Burns
- Invitation To The Redbreast by William Cowper
- Sea Salt A Villanelle
- Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone. by Walt Whitman
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 103. The Mountain Spite. Томас Мур.
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
