Sunday, September 14, 2014

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.

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