Tevis Bluff

Like Hart Crane

In Poetry on October 2, 2012 at 5:00 pm

You’re so tragic,
in that green wool sweater
first time sailing in a steam liner
going across the harbor
thinking about eating,
thinking about dying.
Night time, middle of the night
crying, sinking, falling onto land
of a conclusion,
peaceful emissions
coming from the brain to the body to swallow
that cleaning
liquid kept underneath the sink

Youre so tragic,
everything to you is about dying
eat something! damn it.
dont you wish you could
since you’re drinking yourself silly,
in Houston last night
with music coming from across the street
through patio lights and tables

You’re so tragic,
driving your car down the interstate
thinking about eating something
thinking about dying or something
thinking about crashing this leased car into a barrier,
crumpling, like paper, tossed into a basket
by a man in the office, who is
just so damned tragic,
never going to escape this
casual black tie affair.

Youre so tragic,
waiting in the morning,
breathing though a clogged nose
sleeping on your side,
wondering if this is a story
in some other’s play
and this protagonist-
missing his mother, missing the sunlight,
working his tired eyes towards easy
living.

SO TRAGIC!

You’re so tragic
standing on the rooftops,
making no ends meet,
living like Hart Crane,
thinking about drinking,
thinking about eating.
thinking about dying.

SO TRAGIC!

Wondering what it is like to sleep all day, instead
of taking the stairs back down to the ground floor
and passing up the lobby
outside the door- into the street
looking at the men and looking the women
and their bodies and their faces,
as you pass them passing you by,
riding in their cars
watching their movies
eating their dinners
(something that you will never have)

SO DAMNED TRAGIC!

and wondering if its all worth it.

Walking inside at night,
through the lobby, up the stairs
Thinking about eating.
Thinking about sleeping.
Thinking about the rush of air
as it breathes out
emptying the lungs of the
and then over through
the hairs on the face and the head
sighing for excitement
smiling for the ideas
of eating, and sex
and joy.
Thinking about eating.
Thinking about drinking.
Thinking about dying.

SO TRAGIC!

Ryan Fisette

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