I’m in an office-
sitting with a very dignified face
among the dignified stuffed chairs
and polished wood and glass
And the people I meet
may never know
how weird I am,
or how I sang
loudly and very badly
to myself on the way here
Our discussion
will not broach the subject
of my drunken strolls
down Broadway
or my screaming pleas of mercy
to the blood moon
and all the women of the world
They think I am studying
venture capital
or the stock market
while I scribble
chaotic poems
and dream of swinging naked
from White House chandeliers…
Posts
2 comments:
I love this poem, man. I got stuck, though, on "sitting with very dignified place," because it's an unusual turn of phrase. What do you mean by that? That's my only quibble with this.
That was a typo; I fixed it.
Post a Comment