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9:47 AM
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BRUISED BY GONZO INDULGENCE
9:47AM
digital clock declares
lumbering into North Philly station
graffiti scarred walls
greet passengers with gibberish
a disinterested conductor
checking tickets
charging unticketed passengers
head into town to party or parade
conventions and festivals
a few costumed young’uns
don’t recognize the characters
clearly a reflection
of my ever advancing age
I’m an old fuck indeed
but I can laugh about it now
Sir, you are a true Poet, and
Sir, you are a true Poet, and I applaud you: from a catalogue of ordinary experiences on an ordinary 21st century day (perhaps overcast or dismal, or that is how I imagine it, as I read through this), you have constructed a poem of shrewd observation and poignant wisdom. This poem reminds me of Phil Larkin's best stuff; although, through your poem's final two lines, you achieve the escape from bitterness and disdain that Larkin never fully achieved or managed. Bravo!!!
Starward
thanks, just trying to
thanks, just trying to capture the moment as it unfolds. Even when I get down, I still seek a silver lining somewhere. Humor often is the best medicine.
What a great, dare I almost say
..immortal line, to capture a what will amount to a moment in the long arc of mankind and civilization:
"graffiti scarred walls
greet passengers with gibberish"
just existing in this savage
just existing in this savage society as best I can
One of my three most favorite
One of my three most favorite Poets, Wallace Stevens, once wrote that one of the purposes of Poetry was to help people live through their lives. In this poem, you demonstrate how to do that in a way that, in my opinion, old Stevens himself would heartily applaud and cheer.
Starward