Jonathan Beale- A Poem

Makers of light

In Spinoza or…some other maker of the light

            For the first time and maybe only time

                        Will we recognise each other? 

                                    Are you as that Guitar playing troubadour

Or that formal professional man – whose poetry rises above the mechanical, the cell, or disease. Or is it just the mundane

            In the barbers

                        Red & white twisted

                                    Lines across

                                                The nation’s tongues

            Neon art deco

                        Soda pop - art

                                    Yeats, Cummings, Williams, & Borrough’s

The day now lives in the night.