the long cigarette smoke of the wet
glittering city twilight curls and diminishes
in the tiny pinpoints of rain--
and Bert Jansch comes back to me
over 40 years--"Needle of Death"--
"It Don't Bother Me""--filled my head
in another rainy twilight of blankness--
in youth--before the horror I suspected my life
would be came to pass--
and now--a tingling desolation of hollowness
nearing the fullness of the long evening of age--
ready or not--I stand renewed for the last sprint
Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
No comments:
Post a Comment