I live in this small squared apartment,
motley in design. The reflections
off the street. Outside the cars
on their way to work passing by.

Mrs. Taylor who lives upstairs is going out
to see her stamp clerk boyfriend today.
You know she’s dressed for the occasion.

The chessmen’s adjuration.
This comic book store has just opened across the street.
A play in today’s revolving movie doorway.
The cartoon people in blue prisms, walking the Ave.
The scientist at the University experimenting with cloning.
Mine is so old, he’s dying – the diseased air.

The girl next door – god she looks good.
I imagine her dancing, in the Cemetery Pere Lachaise.
Singing voices in the night
guarding her nakedness,
she offers me her privacy.

A genie playing outside.
These four drunks lagging coins against the wall.
Morgan letting Morgan in.

Hey man, Poncho’s gallant masters we’re here.
The pigeon outside
my window has a message
tied to his leg.

The smoke from a cigarette burning.
It was late last night.
The brats at Pratt
on their way home from school
wearing their fancy hats.
This picture of a desperate looking corsair,
that hangs over the bar at Dylan’s tavern.
One eye scared one eye with a tear.

Lying here in bed with Nancy
drinking the wine She Brings Me.
Under the dimmed lights,
I think of the times
we dedicated ourselves to an idea
of freedom,
an I ask you John,
if you still dream of the revolution…

In honor to the generals
the red cats,
the rhinoceros, and the bears,
in this slowly dying sea.

A salute to the garden motifs, the white stones
of Gaudi.
Sitting by the window
watching the fireworks across the lake.
Two fish jump out of the water, an aspiration
to the vanishing heroes.
There seems to be a riot everywhere we go here.
Jesus will take his words to the streets.
Somehow; I think so.

Thomas my insurgent friend,
Laplaces’ mathematics
we will need a genius
to figure this all out, when it’s over.
One day on this turning axle world.
Alone then and now alone again.

Out of a wall in the city of Istanbul,
a caterpillar
crawls across
the floor of a gypsy’s cave. Time stops.
Notwithstanding. Remaining there always”
Giving us a chance
to remember.
Giving us a chance
to begin again.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Joseph Mayo Wristen's poem Orange Water, Poem in Letter C.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Do you have any comments, criticism, paraphrasis or analysis of this poem that you feel would assist other visitors in understanding the meaning or the theme of this poem by Joseph Mayo Wristen better? If accepted, your analysis will be added to this page of American Poems. Together we can build a wealth of information, but it will take some discipline and determination.