LAMENT
Suffer now the bitter evening
The undead twitter of lively folk
They are small clipped birds
Swallow now the half-chewed meal
Of wakeful dreams
Summoned by the stink of urinals
Or shambled men in piss-stained slacks
How ugly people can be
Slouched in the rain and thinking of death
Salvation for the heartless
Most of us are black in the eyes
The worst, they are gone in the face
Who cares what is wrong with this world
Who cares what the world knows
Augustus Caesar, son of a bloody man
And Rome, Rome is where the hyacinth bloomed
Imagine now Apollinaire gazing out the window
Of a small café in Montparnasse
How does a poet destroy a Sunday afternoon
C’est la vie, c’est la vie
Let me count the ways
That is life, sun up, sun down
Not to bring peace, but a sword
So let us be wise as serpents, as the snake
Or let us not understand our speech but remain confounded
And if there is a sweet-smelling savor in this world, O
Artisans of what is already built
Conglomerations of lilies
Masters of the interior
Absence of visage
Quiet birth
The days will grow longer
But the nights will not yield