There's Got To Be A Morning After

I heard it once, smoothed-out
by gallons of coffee,
chest husking like a plow
and pulled it into a basement.
Cardigan-wrapped the next morning
and only then was it true, only then
was I so hungry I could eat at the roots of it,

and lay down like a napping aristocrat
dreaming of pendulums
potbellied, empurpled,
pissing outside, and my
boombox played it again, its notes
encircled by my poor shy ghosts
made quiet speeches to the wind
saluted this song's toasting.

by Daniel Nester

Comments (1)

Sure there came a morning after, Daniel. Nice line of the napping aristocrat. It's musical poetry and, though I don't understand every bit of it, it makes sence to me; Un saludo cordial desde Sevilla, Spain