Yusef Komunyakaa |
US |
& become what you've always been. You hide in a hovel on a burnished throne before crawling into bed, though you've been accursed to loving the louse, cockroach, bird of prey, & the bag woman on the corner of Eighth & Broadway. Now, you linger at a high window gazing out toward unblinking city stars. Grandmaster of the id, switcheroo, & spades, the smell of collard greens & okra can still draw you out of a blue funk, into ecstasy, till you are a go-between walking two paths along the river Styx. If you still have any claim on the shadow I cast among mountainous silences, I bet you're hurting again to become a red-green rooster in a twilit pepper tree, an archduke waiting for the ball to begin, for the flutes & drumsticks to strike up a slow pandemonium. |
Dublin Poetry Review: Éigse Átha Cliath
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Section 1 ~ Issue 21a
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