Drift
I dreamt the king had died &
Come to life &
Upon a throne of warped records
Kurt Cobain growled
My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep
Last night
And up the tar-stitched avenue
Goethe dished dogeared copies of
Faust & frenzied
Citizenry wailed
O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of pain
And Cobain rifled out his
Powder-coated brains &
Heavy rains reminded one of
Fables of invincible Old Glory &
Upon front-door rafts drifted we—
Survivors, naysayers,
Stayers of stale philosophy—
And a new wet world resurfaced O
So blue, O so green & in my
Prayers I answered the question of
The bygone musician whose needled
Passion soared always toward
Emptiness between stars:
Last night I slept in the kingdom &
Tonight, I learn to swim.