"I am an idealistic, naive, passionate, truth-seeking, spiritually motivated artist, unschooled in the science of law and finance." --Wesley Snipes

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Boku Books Plug

A fine poem by Chris Martin, from Boku's The Day Reagan Died. It makes good sense to me this sunny day in February, Fahrenheit parked at 50 degrees, smell of sweet but not yet identifiable flowers and trees hanging about.



There are yellow lions prowling
Like great blonde acresses across

The wind-swept avenue when finally
The morning sun would have me

Stir, still in Brooklyn, forever
Thinking of California, the small

Savory pies I used to eat, the idea
Of it like a woman that someone

Has tried to set me up with, glamorous
And a little out of my league. Out of bed

Now, the cats purring, paint fumes
Rising from the apartment below.

I am out of love and it angers
Me unreasonably, bottom

Lip swollen and useless. The record
Player is broken too, but I have my books

And their company delights them, as my friends
Do me, when there is matter enough to draw

Us all together. The cats tussle and groom, I
Hang about in my underwear, the room

Perfectly capable of holding each. I cannot contain
My disappointment at life, but as it spills over

It mingles with thits opposite and the balance
Is generally restored. Maybe I'll take a walk

To the library, one can never have enough
Friends, or sun, wind patiently embracing.

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