I
Eagerly
Like a woman hurrying to her lover
Night comes to the room of the world
And lies, yielding and content
Against the cool round face
Of the moon.
2
Night is a curious child, wandering
Between earth and sky, creeping
In windows and doors, daubing
The entire neighborhood
With purple paint.
Day
Is an apologetic mother
Cloth in hand
Following after.
3
Peddling
From door to door
Night sells
Black bags of peppermint stars
Heaping cones of vanilla moon
Until
His wares are gone
Then shuffles homeward
Jingling the gray coins
Of daybreak.
4
Night’s brittle song
Little people often make big heroes-
From the unknown ranks
Of the population swellers;
From the Jones and Janes distinguished
Only by social security numbers
Giants spring;
Giants whose names
Soon become a familiar taste
in the mental mouths of the world.
Sometimes those born big
Go with a slim sputter
And all the hymns money can buy
Praise hymned in printers’ ink
Cannot magnify
Fizz into boom….
Reference:
Frank Marshall Davis
Robert Whitmore
Having attained success in business
possessing three cars
one wife and two mistresses
a home and furniture
talked of by the town
and thrice ruler of the local Elks
Robert Whitmore
died of apoplexy
when a stranger from Georgia
mistook him
for a former Macon waiter…
Arthur Ridgewood, M.D.
He debated whether
as a poet
to have dreams and beans
or as a physician
have a long car and caviar.
