Grad School Looms; the horror...
Nocturnal Ghazal
Come sit and we’ll talk of a cool breathing smoke.
The night softly fallen, a wool breathing smoke.
We walked up to where we could see the whole city,
Its dark margin cut like a jewel breathing smoke.
Where is distortion? And where is decay?
Floating balls-up in a pool breathing smoke.
“Don’t hassle me, man,” says Umberto, “I’m sober,”
While shadows adhere to his tools breathing smoke.
Down the rough alleys, the caterwauls ring.
The busboy leans back on his stool breathing smoke.
When last you were seen here, no words. But your eyes
Told a story of water, a school breathing smoke.
How to cull sense from the droppings of memory?
Make it a compost, a gruel breathing smoke.
Now a pale pink skirts the rim of the world;
What first the sun touches-this fool breathing smoke.
Come sit and we’ll talk of a cool breathing smoke.
The night softly fallen, a wool breathing smoke.
We walked up to where we could see the whole city,
Its dark margin cut like a jewel breathing smoke.
Where is distortion? And where is decay?
Floating balls-up in a pool breathing smoke.
“Don’t hassle me, man,” says Umberto, “I’m sober,”
While shadows adhere to his tools breathing smoke.
Down the rough alleys, the caterwauls ring.
The busboy leans back on his stool breathing smoke.
When last you were seen here, no words. But your eyes
Told a story of water, a school breathing smoke.
How to cull sense from the droppings of memory?
Make it a compost, a gruel breathing smoke.
Now a pale pink skirts the rim of the world;
What first the sun touches-this fool breathing smoke.