BLUE MOON
(Three takes on Alfred Starr Hamilton)
For I pulled my blue coat over my subway sleeve
I had to leave to let the cat out
I had just enough change to ride it to the end
The lines corresponded to the rainbow bolted map
I was nearly shot. The same vampires casting about underground
The country folk had caught up with my manner of hearing
Such resonant shapes meant danger
The golden poem is a flower dropped on its head
Broken open bleeding in a pool
And through death we incite further poets
We nail the old bottles to the wooden box
*
Aren’t we all dying to vacation?
Aren’t we all mad from wasted money?
Aren’t we all scribbling into invisible lockets?
Aren’t we all trying to form the perfect search?
Don’t we wish to be left alone in a workroom?
Aren’t we all waiting for the cake to cool until it’s iced?
*
A brown rooming house withered
Kept up all night
With frozen flickering lights
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