from the browner, cleaner old days

On the Poems of Ben Roosevelt

Seat yourselves. Everything will dim.

Jets will descend.

Waters below, opaque as brandy.

Lush tents are pitched.

The bosom of the night,the milk of the lamplight.

The faucets remain. Their sovereign brass.

(not one of the better poems of that era, and not a worthy tribute to ben. that said, i like the lamplight’s sovereign brass, whatever the crap that means. and it’s important we circulate these artifacts. then again, maybe i shouldn’t write something if i’m concerned it won’t make sense to other people, let alone myself. maybe i shouldn’t defray the munchkins if they won’t think less of the steeple, let alone bi health.)


5 Responses to “from the browner, cleaner old days”

  1. minx Says:

    I often thought these poems we wrote were like dangling teases of scenes from some sort of surreal crime genre film.

  2. nuge Says:

    I’m getting glimpses of a low budget Patton.

  3. minx Says:

    Exactly. I like that idea.

  4. david Says:

    Bacon and bourbon, I shit you not:

  5. nuge Says:

    Holy Shit!!! I just had a flashback of Ramsey holding a lit roman candle in one hand and a high life in the other in front of the Brady palace yelling “bourbon before bacon”. Does anyone remember the specifics of the Madeline Allbright conversation of earlier that night, that night was a mind eraser.

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