AFTER ANACREON
When I drive cab
I am moved by strange whistles and wear a hat.
When I drive cab
I am the hunter. My prey leaps out from where it
hid, beguiling me with gestures.
When I drive cab
All may command me, yet I am in command of all who do.
When I drive cab
I am guided by voices descending from the naked air.
When I drive cab
A revelation of movement comes to me: They wake now.
Now they want to work or look around. Now they want
drunkenness and heavy food. Now they contrive to love.
When I drive cab
I bring the sailor home from the sea. In the back of
my car he fingers the pelt of his maiden.
When I drive cab
I watch for stragglers in the urban order of things.
When I drive cab
I end the only lit and waitful things in miles of
darkened houses.
Source of the text – Lew Welch, Ring of Bone: Collected Poems 1950-1971, edited by Donald Allen. San Francisco: Grey Fox Press, 1994, p. 21.
TJB: Anticlassical conceit. We see the poet as cabdriver, a beacon in the land of the sleeping, passengers as readers & the drive itself as poem.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
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