Wednesday, February 25, 2004
The Twilight Defeated
James, where have you gone
With your white bird,
Your golden corn?
Did your loneliness survive
Its flight from poverty,
The streets of Minneapolis
Fading from the horizon?
Or has it remained to overwhelm
Taxicabs and train terminals,
Spilling into the streets—
A plague too ancient
For poetry to heal
Our anechoic cries.
Let us unite, then,
The priests and prostitutes
In the checkout line,
Just long enough
To compare our empty
Pockets, forgotten by Gospel,
The black cameras
Capturing this last act—
Companionship of the poor,
Our shared emptiness.
With your white bird,
Your golden corn?
Did your loneliness survive
Its flight from poverty,
The streets of Minneapolis
Fading from the horizon?
Or has it remained to overwhelm
Taxicabs and train terminals,
Spilling into the streets—
A plague too ancient
For poetry to heal
Our anechoic cries.
Let us unite, then,
The priests and prostitutes
In the checkout line,
Just long enough
To compare our empty
Pockets, forgotten by Gospel,
The black cameras
Capturing this last act—
Companionship of the poor,
Our shared emptiness.
