A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Let the man write about Philadelphia. He has a little cynicism in him.
Cynicism is nothing. It’s black coffee with sugar.
Let him write about the sirens floating around the night.
Let him write about the beauty of Chinatown,
the ancient China behind the lacquer grocery store masks.
Let the Blessed Mother statue keep him warm.
Let him write about the fear of death because if he forgets it
for a moment, everyone is happy to remind him.
Let him write as the river passes.
I don’t know why he left the house every night
at midnight and came back happy.
He had wings. They were black
He looked, for all the world,
like a man with no head
carrying the head of Shakespeare.
Look at the other men.
They kill and seem to be happy.
That is, they send us off to kill for them.
They dunk o’s of doughnuts
into cooled, pixilated brews.
copyright 2015 Leonard Gontarek
— The General