Evening alone

 

 

 

It was a third floor apartment

with patio doors off the living room

to a porch looking out onto a 4-lane,

busy with traffic, Moravia Road.

Evening’s gray was giving an edge

to the exiting orange-glow of the day

that was leaving through those doors

at about the same pace the Sunshine Acid

I’d put on my tongue a half hour ago

was coming-on.

 

In harmony with this transition

I left the lights off, a bit anxious,

synapses popping behind wet eyes,

that when the total dark of night

controlled the room I would be

peaking in its grasp.

 

This tic was replaced by

a dawning sense of warm euphoria

as the room settled into a soft humid glow

and Eleanor Rigby’s scraping bows of violins

were totally liquid within me.

I was as alone with its pulsing

as Father Mckenzie and the other lonely people.

 

The darkness, now part of my psyche,

gave a nocturnal life to the walls

blooming with energy,

textured like fog –

even the nap of my flannel pants

was quivering with a warmth

and life of its own.

 

I opened the curtains

as the beige street globes came on

adding color and definition

to the traffic that flowed

down roads connecting

the parking lot below to the planet –

trailers of headlights branching out

in all directions to everything.

 

Turning back to the sofa

I felt a squash under foot

as the large-leafed fern

let out a faint scream of psychedelic mishap,

bleeding green ooze under my now heavy,

traumatized Cole-Hahn suedes.

 

 

3 comments

  1. Hi Craig,

    Being alone is in, itself, an experience of memory flashes, imaginative happenings and more. You capture this so effectively with your vivid and riveting descriptions. I like the way you detail the outside world with the one going on inside your head. Lines like the following

    “The darkness, now part of my psyche,

    gave a nocturnal life to the walls

    blooming with energy,

    textured like fog –

    even the nap of my flannel pants

    was quivering with a warmth

    and life of its own.”

    really help to underscore the mood and experience of this very intense and creative poem! Thanks so much for sharing.

    My best,
    Wendy

    Like

  2. Craig,

    Wow, this would convince me never to touch the stuff!
    Of course I meant ‘alone-ness”. : )

    I won’t even ask how you could bring that scene to life
    so vividly!! but You most surely did! You do have a
    certain power with the pen in your hand. Bravo!

    Be safe, my friend.

    sarah

    Like

  3. Having never used any form of acid, I can only imagine the accuracy of your images. However, this is strong and vivid.

    Like

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