A Yankee Soiree
I don't mind being labeled "insane,"
for this brain has seen much learning
and spent many highway nights
questing after the profane and the sacred
My education was a dream,
an American party whose door
was open to all who came!!
Now, after songs and witticisms,
juggling and dancing,
after grizzled grace and pretentious banalities,
fervent futurism and primal entanglements,
my house is wrecked...
the picket fence in cubist pieces
The glittering guests leave unasked
and the whole affair
takes on a Shady and fiercer face;
there are revolutionary murmurs,
inspired acts of pugilism, and
mind-bending hours of
Now, the bottles are empty...
and my tattered mind
catches the last guests
as they trickle away
with quick, quick gracious farewells
And so I sit here with daunted courage,
hanging my legs over the edge of the world,
savoring again the star-enchanted naivette of early evening,
awaiting the arrival of what will come...
whether it be death: cold, brazen, and dumb,
or Fame in its ever-rising golden sun,
or perhaps, perhaps
the long lost "America of Love!!"