Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Senora Neruda of Montclair

Senora Neruda of Montclair

Shouting into a bottomless valley,
The answer is the echo of my voice.
They will arrest me if I continue.
Let it go.

If I try to justify my actions
Or demand a clarifying remark
I’m up to my armpits in shit again.
Let it go.

You wanted to help the already dead
Who drowned in their daydreams years ago.
Nothing in reality revives them.
Let it go.

Despite the fact I can write as I please
Without the censorship or dramatics
Beloved of this overblown ego.
Let it go.

Write everything as a fiction now
For no one’s eyes but my own baby blues
And for the people who give a God damn.
Let it go.

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