trying to write shit that vaguely means anything
Aubade
I would break into blossom now. I’ve smoked too many
cigarettes. Behind a world of smoke, the objects
seem strange-what are lampposts but matchsticks?
Why do stars waver? To what body of water do these gutters run?
The sun is delayed. It slinks behind hedges and hides
in a sleeping bag, taking up space. Now the eyes
brighten, seeking the light where it lies
in a stray can of Coke, making faces
at the sky. Why wait for a dawning, a bugle,
a song to warm the ears? I have here
my favorite hat, made of lamb’s wool, and secrets
to whisper across the lawns.
-Luke M. Rickford
4/17/07
I would break into blossom now. I’ve smoked too many
cigarettes. Behind a world of smoke, the objects
seem strange-what are lampposts but matchsticks?
Why do stars waver? To what body of water do these gutters run?
The sun is delayed. It slinks behind hedges and hides
in a sleeping bag, taking up space. Now the eyes
brighten, seeking the light where it lies
in a stray can of Coke, making faces
at the sky. Why wait for a dawning, a bugle,
a song to warm the ears? I have here
my favorite hat, made of lamb’s wool, and secrets
to whisper across the lawns.
-Luke M. Rickford
4/17/07