I’m driving home highlands at midnight and
Ferlinghetti’s playing on tape
talking Ezra Pound and baseball and infinity
and it’s silent out
there’s a pause in the poetry and
I hear this infernal crack
like Satan’s bullwhip
and in the darkly sky
like a strange and divine x-ray
a ghostly colossus lighting bolt appears
only its not so much a bolt
as a sort of spit (Satan’s spit)
this great bony arm is lying on its side
maybe even like a clothesline
and all the withering heathens
slung over like undergarments
and I look up at it
I don’t say anything
I don’t think anything
I just look
first drops drip now like messengers of wartime
and it pours
as if all the bathwater of Babylon
had been thrown overboard
and I think I’m gonna die
so I roll the windows down
and I bellow
and I think about God
and the rain bellows back
soaking me in judgment
(the road is gone now)
I see lights flicker here and there
red, white
like angels and demons roaming the land
in game or conflict
but it’s only cars and
they’re moving like vagrants in Paris
and they’re blindfolded
so I pull over
to the side of the non road
and I stop
and I sit back and I think and I stare
it’s a long time gone
and the rain against the windshield
looks like the colors of the world are melting
and then the rain stops
the clouds stop and the wind stops
and it all stops
even the mist settles like a fishing net
drifting down to ocean depths
and the world stops
and I look at the sky
and the moon is just sitting there
like an opal on some dark velvet jewelers display
my eyes drift lazy down each star
as if by rope ladder, down further down
and I’m painting pictures of vision and demigods
I see the dashboard now
I’m out of gas
and there’s faces in the wind
I like the changes you made to it.
cool poem.
October 1st, 2009 at 4:46 am
It requires better words than I own; I couldn’t give justice to it, so I’ll just back out the way I entered, my eyes downcast, of course.
References :
October 1st, 2009 at 5:12 am
I like the changes you made to it.
cool poem.
References :