SEEMS WE ARE FOR A
MAGIC VIEW OF LIFE
(rimbaud)
All very nice. How the words do linger. Will they?
There is nothing (I am only now finding out)
outside of this small and drunken boat.
Heard that before down the rivercut of Life?
-
I woke up with a Chinese man in my head.
He was somehow grinning up at me. A
Chinese version of a Creole love? Good
God! I should want for nothing but a girl.
(And the breadline was silent).
-
It was 1931. I was walking with
Mary Sodano past a Fifth Avenue
soup kitchen. Dishevelled people,
men mostly, were lining up for food -
in their meshed silence they were seeking
bread. 'Where are all the children? Are
there none of them hungry too?' I asked
to no one's answer. And then I noted,
'And are they seeking solace or salvation?'
-
No more of this now anyway. Go to
Bordentown or go to Hell. Ninety
years later, they've built roads to
everywhere and you can, really,
get anywhere at all - except maybe
to where you want or where you should.
The streets have all died. The priests
have all died. The men with crew cuts
are all dead, and there are no more
women with thick, black stockings.
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