squib and drift about other people & Poe


to R.B.

the man I was back then would have played with a
ball or a toy train
first and I would have remembered

the track and field the trees and when
the sun arose orange

and the white city and black
and red and blue and yellow

all about this parsimonious city
I rang all the alarms
the sea monster

it awoke by me bed
the Irish sea captain said

it mothered me all the Limeys down
by the quayside in the Blackpool line

    as if whatever you said was true
    it wasn’t the sad song you said you sang
    or the all old ports o’ call you withered at
    ‘twas only this very nice you can call it that

Roncesvalles here my mind about wonders
ever my mind will
tally the shreading Wilberforce and crust
for a tenpenny nail

and along Seventh Street and Peachtree Street
and the Porte de something statuesque
and the man wanting to go there yelling about
something he’d lost
or had been taken from him

the really bad black night
the one that isn’t day