This should be my Ulysses, my Emma,
my Don Quixote, my Scoop, my
Lolita, my Lucky Jim, my Austerlitz,
my Clarissa, my Catch-22, my Nausea, my
Jane Eyre, my Heart Of Darkness.
I should write, in this haze of
bravura and need and dust,
with words like rare jewels
yearning to be shaped and polished,
bright and hard and beautiful.
This should be my Entirely, my Howl,
my Dover Beach, my V, my
Still I Rise, my Life Is Fine, my Brown Penny,
my America, my Dream Deferred, my Romance, my
Always, my Deaths And Entrances.
I will write, in this riot
of caffeine and lust and night,
with words like cut arrows
aching to be nocked and loosed,
straight and true and hitting home.
BINABASA MO ANG
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
