Friday, March 20, 2009

By and Large


By And Large

Beautiful sadness of the big city
in the evening that I like to
read about in Frank O'Hara.
Stores that stay open "terribly late"
so you can imagine their glow
from your polished bus seat--just as
here,
the beautiful slow heat
that eventually saturates
every blade of grass
and irregular areas of earth between
the grass
(or is it "grasses"?)
All that really matters is
that you are here, that "really matters"
be used, the common phrase,
because we all are
common as the earth, not proper
as people want to seem,
where appearances is all that matters,
matter itself subordinated,
feelings masked.
Here
where yellow roses and brighter yellow
sunflowers in the yard
and mosquitos where you forgot to rub
some Off on
prick you alive.


Joseph Somoza

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