Nothing, Yet: Prose Poem
Wednesday Prose Poem: after the party
Silence but clairvoyance — well, that’s the drift, ain’t it? — the slow steady sink into the otherworld — but I haven’t seen anything or what I saw made no sense —
surreptitiously surrounded by what some call fate — I married the silence to my knees, my back — I tried to exit the ache, before, then I stumbled down Broadway, the lights of cars and warm houses winking at me — but instead was always running only nowhere other than not here —
The scene — waiting beside a lamp post to see what happens, what hangs on wrought-iron bars and nostalgia — another drift into the sounds of magic happening for other people — anyone want to trade? — as if life were a set of marbles to change to increase to stupefy —
taking yet another drink though I’ve lost all feeling anyway — the static…the static — but nothing, yet, or hopes that fly right fucking through me as I stumble through 2 a.m. —
Make me other people — a distorted prayer, a crashing into Adirondack chairs with all deaf on just one side — and I can’t stop for fear…for the chance at another chance —
to hold a different pen, to hold a different glance — maybe get to the root of something — proclaim my love of trees! — then hope then hope then hope — but so far…
