Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Wednesday, January 15, 2014

nighttime is the right time?


Sometimes the night will take you places
you’re not sure if you'd like to go.
I think of my friend the Rooster
in those irredeemable bars right now
smoke mushroom clouding above heads
and the bleary eyed haze of it all.
I wake at 2 am                                                                                                                                 

my strong medicine
wearing thin at this hour.
Frank Stanford-you impossible bastion of snake bites
I feel you now
you prophetic Ozark bastard, you.
Making out in front of the bigscreen of dreams
all those ships that never sailed.
The dog is fast asleep                                                                                                                     

but me I've got the jitters.
I remember those north city nights
oh too many sirens
but the gunshots never really came
like one would've expected.
When the medicine man rips through your street in his oldass camaro
you can't help but wake up.
The old women bang sticks in dream alleys.
The vegetable cart man is fast asleep                                                                                             

but what about me?
I drink a cool glass of sour milk and am left wanting
in this twilight anxiety of smooth spaces.
Into the black humpbacked night-
Sun Ra's spaceship looms large
Gary gets dropped off there at the landing pad
he's taken off for the booze odyssey to the Eastside-
Farewell brave wayfarer
I am a wayfaring stranger in exile from my father's land.
Could this all be anymore oblique?
 

Is every poem about poetry?
I write this and feel relieved.