Member-only story
POETRY
For Mr. Eliot
Oh my teenage days
with your love song
the haze
of trousers long
enough to be frayed
and how I rolled from
tide to tide
the ride
of learning left me glum:
alley cats
we were brats
who belonged
to our own age
and how we longed
unassuaged
to come and go
as free as bees
or Michelangelo
Life would hollow me
unearthing my path
and bleed
out my laughter.
Words filled up the empty
space. Time would overstuff
the waste land,
my hands
were tied. Spring, swift and rough:
resurrect
the elect
who outlast
criticism.
Desire’s draft,
the schism
reality
would choose to bruise
instead of setting free.
