Monday, October 25, 2010

Flotsam and Jetsam

It was a long walk~
her thoughts all over the map,
the bus schedule lit by
a procession of
amber streetlights.

The traffic crossing town,
to south
to bad
and flow
flotsam and jetsam
in and out.

Right through the door
she carried herself
quickly to the neon lit bar
where he'd just finished
one, two, was working
on a third vodka straight.

poked him in the ribs
let him know she was


...and the fires in Detroit
burned early that night

...and the planets aligned
delivering catastrophe
to the world of man

...and Lazarus rose from
his tomb

...and the bomb dropped--
millions died.
millions more were born
with a million more bombs
to explode this universe
with their fire and their love.

Poems should be
elegant things; complexity
in a single sustained breath.

But this one
just won't work like that.

It's from Detroit.

It was a long walk.

In and out.


Dulce said...

IMO, Detroit as as good a place as anyone to write a masterpiece of a poem as this... Full of life,
as life IS!

Charles Gramlich said...

The poem is from Detroit. I really like that metaphor. Makes me start thinking about what kind of poem would be from New Orleans, or Hot springs maybe? said...

It's good.

benjibopper said...

You've got a knack for killer endings, buddy. If you could jar that stuff you'd make millions.