I’m broken from bending
I’ve lived too long
on my knees
And she dances so graceful
and your heart’s hard and hateful
and she’s naked
but that’s just a tease
And you turn in disgust
from your hatred and from your love
and she comes to you
light as the breeze
O baby I waited
so long for your kiss
for something to happen
oh — something like this
There’s blood on every bracelet
you can see it, you can taste it
and it’s Please baby
please baby please
And she says, Drink deeply, pilgrim
but don’t forget there’s still a woman
beneath this
resplendent chemise
So I knelt there at the delta
at the alpha and the omega
I knelt there
like one who believes
And like a blessing come from heaven
for something like a second
I was cured, and my heart
was at ease
CLOSING TIME
So we’re drinking and we’re dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
she’s the Angel of Compassion
and she’s rubbing half the world against her thigh
Every drinker, every dancer
lifts a happy face to thank her
and the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
All the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it’s partner found and it’s partner lost
and it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It’s closing time
We’re lonely, we’re romantic
and the cider’s laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit’s crying, “Where’s the beef?”
And the moon is swimming naked
and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime
And I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can’t say much has happened since
but closing time
I loved you for your beauty
but that doesn’t make a fool of me —
you were in it for your beauty too
I loved you for your body
there’s a voice that sounds like G-d to me
declaring that your body’s really you
I loved you when our love was blessed
and I love you now there’s nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime
And I miss you since our place got wrecked
I just don’t care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it’s something in between, I guess
it’s closing time
And I miss you since the place got wrecked
by the winds of change and the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it’s something in between, I guess
it’s closing time
We’re drinking and we’re dancing
but there’s nothing really happening
the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling, gets me laughing
she’s a hundred but she’s wearing something tight
And I lift my glass to the Awful Truth
which you can’t reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn’t worth a dime
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it’s once for the Devil and it’s once for Christ
but the Boss don’t like these dizzy heights —
we’re busted in the blinding lights
of closing time
WAITING FOR THE MIRACLE
Baby, I’ve been waiting,
I’ve been waiting night and day
I didn’t see the time,
I waited half my life away
There were lots of invitations
and I know you sent me some
but I was waiting
for the miracle to come.
I know you really loved me
but, you see, my hands were tied.
I know it must have hurt you,
it must have hurt your pride
to stand beneath my window
with your bugle and your drum
while I was waiting
for the miracle to come.
So you wouldn’t like it, baby.
You wouldn’t like it here.
There’s not much entertainment
and the judgements are severe.
The maestro says it’s Mozart
but it sounds like bubblegum
when you’re waiting
for the miracle to come.
Waiting for the miracle
there’s nothing left to do.
I haven’t been this happy
since the end of World War II.
Nothing left to do
when you know that you’ve been taken.
Nothing left to do
when you’re begging for a crumb.
Nothing left to do
when you’ve got to go on waiting,
waiting for the miracle to come.
I dreamed about you, baby.
It was just the other night.
Most of you was naked
but some of you was light.
The sands of time were falling
from your fingers and your thumb
and you were waiting
for the miracle to come.
Baby, let’s get married,
we’ve been alone too long.
Let’s be alone together,
let’s see if we’re that strong.
Let’s do something crazy,
something absolutely wrong
while we’re waiting
for the miracle to come.
Nothing left to do
when you know that you’ve been taken.
Nothing left to do
when you’re begging for a crumb.
Nothing left to do
when you’ve got to go on waiting,
waiting for the miracle to come.
When you’ve fallen on the highway
and you’re lying in the rain,
and they ask you how you’re doing,
of course you say you can’t complain —
if you’re squeezed for information,
that’s when you’ve got to play it dumb:
You just say you’re out there waiting
for the miracle to come.
UNCOLLECTED POEMS
TO A FELLOW STUDENT
I thought about you a lot.
I still do.
You sat still,
your hands clasped on your lap
like a schoolchild.
You were allowed to cry
because you have been true
to your grief.
I saw you today
sitting in the same way,
the same tears on your cheeks,
as if you had not moved
in all these years —
the same bad headache
in your right eye,
the same housefly
trying to fertilize your lips.
Old friend, you’re a mess
by every measure
except the ladder of love.
Jemez Springs, 1980
FRAGMENT FROM A JOURNAL
I lit a stick of incense. I sat down on a small cushion crossing my legs in a full Lotus. For over an hour I thought about how much I hated one of my ex-wives.
It was still dark when I began writing a metaphysical song called “Letter to the Christians,” in which I attempted to exaggerate the maturity of my own religious experience and invalidate everyone else’s, especially those who claimed a renewed spiritual vitality.
Several days later I had four stanzas of eight lines each, which certified that I received the Holy Spirit, attained to a deep enlightenment, circumcised my soul with the Wine of Love, and “accustomed myself to the clemency of the Lord.”
I told the song to Anthony that afternoon as we were standing knee deep in the Aegean Sea. We had a good laugh. He especially liked this verse:
The imitations of His love
He sponsors patiently
Until you can be born with
