Skip to main content

Late Music


ISSUE:  Spring 1984

In the pleasure of a piano sonata
And black coffee at midnight,
I can taste the music:
Bitter, warm, alive, and rattling,
It keeps me awake, awake in the real.

 

*

An order goes out to everything:
Things set forth on a journey.

I, too, shall be gone:
Transported, yet present

Still drinking black coffee
On the heights above sleep.

*

All things return to the first thought of them.
Then all things come back to us better, yet the same.
Yet nothing shall ever be the same again.

I can scarcely remember
Who I’ve been,
Or when,
And yet whatever is, is here.

0 Comments

By submitting this form, you accept the Mollom privacy policy.

Recommended Reading