dylan mckay is off the wagon, and also, april is national poetry month…

….So here are two I enjoy.

Rain  (Jack Gilbert)

Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
In whatever room
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.
I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
This rain.

Jack Gilbert (P. Scott Cunningham)

Love is everything
though of course, love dies
leaving you in agony
and then you die
and worms crawl in and out of your skull.
But the alternative is worse—
mope around, hate yourself
and then die. Worms
will still crawl in and out of your skull
whether or not you stood on top
of the White Mountains to watch
the sun explode into the Sea of Crete
or tasted the skin of a woman
soaked in sweat and wine.
Drink this wine, the Lord said.
It’s my heart
slashed and drained.


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