AN EVENING WITH CHARLIE
smokeless rooms
loud chatter
chatter unending, forgetting, forgetful
forgotten banter
about nothing, about anything
anywhere, everywhere
in smokeless rooms
loud chatter
about nothing
forever
until a fucking bomb
blows out the glass windows
in slow motion
But they sit there
bleeding, cut
bloody bleeding;
first they were loud
talking about nothing
then there was a louder noise
now they’re quiet
and bleeding
their expressions haven’t even changed
But blood is everywhere
everywhere you look
you see red blood
in loud, smokeless rooms
Giron d’Agate
@blue&gold; 7th St. bet.1&2
N.Y., Wednesday, sept.1,2010
I wrote this poem at the Blue and Gold Bar
I had decided to write just what I observed
in order to get into the ‘flow’ of the piece.
Interestingly i’d written one poem there
in the spring of ‘96, 'Big Worm, New Mexico'. When asked later what
were the inspirations of this first poem I’d told
that in those days smoking was permitted in bars
but the poem itself hearkened back to my youth
in the Autumn when people would rake their leaves
then burn them. This was eventually outlawed but before
it was the ‘world’ had the singular odor of burnt leaves around
All Hallow’s Day. Then we would go to the pumpkin patch, me in my chinos and soft cotton shirt. Mom would drive so we’d more often than not be barefoot treading in the soft, black loam to pick out our bright Halloween pumpkin. In those days after the war our nation lived in a blissful ennui and this poem tells that tale.
