Sunday, October 29, 2006

Winsome Beers

[To the poets that have fled]

To the poets that have fled
Trees; hands upthrust in tattered black lace mitts
Two thousand years are dust and dream

We have sweat our share
We may dream of what hath been
We throw cold ashes on the stair
What if the sun comes out
What is the office of the first hour?
What time the wily robin tuggeth the worm
What, what, what

When the first larks began to soar

Where is the word of Your youth and beauty
Wind is an old wine, comrade
You, my friend, who are dead and will never awaken
You say it's this or that

[And how am I to convince you...?]

And how am I to convince you if you aren't here to

Look you've won a Ghost Town

Which left some hours ago

Yes my captain, I

Was there

But what's the use of being pretty If I won't get better?

I want to be younger than I am

I am about to recite a psalm I know

And you will know what I told you is true

When another subway came I crawled on

I am going to fail light and stars and tears

Winsome Beers lives in the Boston area. Her chapbook And how am I to convince you? was recently released from The Bunny Collective.