Here's to Beirut

 "...Above the city of losses, the city of Lights
Bouncing back off a starless sky, the city
Where we'll try to save this night from the death of nights."
    - Joe Bolton, "The Name of Desire"

Here's to the glitz of a dying city 
That no longer resembles itself
Because its light has been stolen..
Here’s to the glam of a deranged city
that no longer resembles another
Because its promise has been broken..
Here's to a tired city, a toxic city, a cruel city
A city of thieves, and of charlatans
Of open sewers, and blocked roads
A city of revolt, of anger and despair..
A city that has died a hundred times 
And deserved every single death..
A city that has killed a million times 
And savored every single one..
Here's to Beirut, the Medusa, the Hydra
And the ever burning Phoenix 
The masochist and the sadist 
The victim and the crime..

The Smallness of Life

(To Katy)

This,
the smallness of my life, I said,
can you see it?

But she said nothing,
she just wrote
a series of details
and small spaces.

My life used to spread, I said,
over pot-holed streets and easy laughter,
a time when youth was
just another smell in the air.

But she said nothing,
she just sniffed;
from where she stood,
she could smell it still.

But my life has stretched so thin, I said,
it has shrunk into this square mile
between where I sleep and where I yawn.

This corner of the world, I said,
that I call my own;
this bit of the earth
I staked as home.

This piece of life, I said,
that I squander at will;
this circle of friends
I ignore to call.

This head resting on my hip,
this hour of the day when the sky
looks like Mary in front of the cross.

This hollow in my heart
where they used to be;
this cat, this breath, this,
this smallness of my life...

But she said nothing,
she just blinked.
Her life wasn't any bigger.

(Originally post on January 30, 2006)

I Thought We Were

To friends departed too early

I thought we were endless,
raging against the night,
laughing life in the face,
and running...

I thought we were shameless,
masters of our indolence,
wasting time like we owned it,
and yawning...

I thought we were spotless,
dazzling and daring,
dreaming of one day,
and dashing...

I thought we were painless...

I thought we were later:
first grandparents,
then parents,
then us...

I thought we were future,
till the past piled on,
today slipped by,
and now…

I think we are naked,
humbled and defenseless,

standing in the wind, and bowing,
seeing for the first time our culling

what remains of us, scattered
and huddled, and hoping…

Originally posted on Friday, October 05, 2007