I heard it once, smoothed-out
by gallons of coffee,
chest husking like a plow
and pulled it into a basement.
Cardigan-wrapped the next morning
and only then was it true, only then
was I so hungry I could eat at the roots of it,

and lay down like a napping aristocrat
dreaming of pendulums
potbellied, empurpled,
pissing outside, and my
boombox played it again, its notes
encircled by my poor shy ghosts
made quiet speeches to the wind
saluted this song's toasting.

Added: Feb 21 2003 | Viewed: 2134 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Daniel Nester
Poem: There's Got To Be A Morning After
Volume: http://www.caffeinedestiny.com/poetry/nester.html
Poem of the Day: Feb 26 2006
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