Читать книгу Common Sense - Ted Greenwald - Страница 10

FOG ROLLED IN

fog rolled in

drink rolled down

water towers

cars sixteen floors down (night)

wind in, cool off the room

seen The Quiet Man (homeric)

my brain feels homeric in its dawning

Joan up in Ithaca (my arms cool)

reading at Holly’s a week from tonight

readings reel in my brain

plans reel in my brains

to marry Joan (secretly of course)

to set up our house (better wishes bad feelings

cautions lay to rest) a place to live for two people

life a subtheme

drink cooling my throat, a new notebook underway

the night in place

the night in a place in my heart in my doubts

my fingers itch (for what) I

loosen them, the self

rests in the night it is asleep now this poem

is awake underneath the poem is a dream soon

the dream will be all over