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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

May 18, 2025  

More in Desde Debajo

Loss

To Ben, Jon, Scott and Mel

 

Loss, asleep in drunken stupor,
raises His head before dawn;
Deep, wise, His breath is a sea.

The old cowboy's eyes are sunken ships
between foamy shores of salt and pepper hair--
                (On the way down, they heard Him sigh,
                an expiration of ceaseless fatigue.)
--The sun is absent; the world is still dreaming
                of itself and the time it needs.

He can't rest; insomnia
                is rampant as of late.
Vigilance spells sin; with regret, He saunters
                East to stay alive. To stay young.

Loss can't close His eyes.

Tracey - on Jul. 6 2007
I like this, and I'm also left wanting for something, I'm not sure what. Context? Explanation of why it's dedicated to four people? I'm not sure.
Desde debajo - on Jul. 9 2007
It's dedicated to three classmates of mine who passed away within two years, and one classmate whose entire family died. It's kind of about my confusion about whether people my age are supposed to die... I know they're not, but they do and it bothers me. At least that's what brought the poem out of me.

The poem leaves me wanting something too, when I read it. I don't know exactly what, but I've decided that I want to go much deeper into the description and imagery of the man himself. I think I may just rewrite it (again) and make it much longer through the middle.

Thanks, by the way
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