Thursday, May 17, 2012

In Search Of Arthur Rimbaud




Self Portrait by Julian Hakym



young poets 
and 
old cafes


the view is always piquant street-side.
curled scenes through 19th century glass, 
quaint as they may be, age the extant complexion 
our faces reject -  visions words demand 
from devotees and suitors alike.

verses in porcelain chipped-edge cups 
color each word red, shaded by your mouth 
of desirous flesh, caffeinated and smoke-fragranced, 
each line capturing an audience in silence. 

cobbled streets collect rainwater and tears, 
rounded stones whetted for engraved words, 
and you offering discorded glances 
to potentialities:  "have a light?" breaks the ice, 
but your lips are frozen unto themselves, 
sealing opportunity to ethereal imagination.

we shuffle across weathered floors of ash-strewn 
rhymes, eye contact engorging our neurosis, 
burning this agony of want onto paper. and yet, 
orgy lust is but a book cover away from open, 
those dead and dying poets, kept neatly under 
your hat, the one you wear to make you "older."  

young poetry is much too avid  to be dark. 
brooding is for jaded eyes, echoed hearts;
yours simply beg cupidity for quenching. 
caffeinated mid-day angst in peppered
vignettes of your latest fling or love affair,  
is punctuated by smoke-stained cuticles 
shaded amber by needless habit: 

that will suffice for now, for
as long as tobacco smolders quietly
between spring's willowed fingers 
and an old soul's 
reason. 

















Poem © 2012 R. Burnett Baker 
Window photo taken by R. Baker, 2009 in Ithaca, NY

2 comments:

  1. Some great lines and brilliant images here.
    Foe example:-

    verses in porcelain chipped-edge cups

    I enjoyed that, and many more. Excellent verse.

    ReplyDelete