Tuesday, April 15, 2014

morning is the best time of day, except for noon and night

morning is the best time of day.
idling in the fresh
goofy glow of the reborn beams,
slurping under Heaven's vault
one's galvanizing cup of drugs,
a breeze rifling through the skirted flirty trees,
now the lingering horrors of
the backbreaking cycle of yesterdays
are blown away,
and the sweetest things are imagined
with an air of conviction
and chanciness.
It is the spirit's
Get Back Up generator,
its magma core
of optimism,
and the clay body's
brief shot
at a hope
for daily renewal,
and that's why we say
morning is the best time of day.

Noon is the best time of day.
though the mass of toilers and office-pets
may only know it as the
half-hour slit or sliver
between underpaid misery
and cheap agonizing servitude,
when one may furtively gobble
a poisonous hamburger sandwich
or squat in the public park with
a genetically modified salad,
or recover bits of dignity over
one to three beers with one's fellow miners
or policemen,
really that may be enough.
But noon is also when the sun is highest,
and therefore provides the most light, truth and
biologic efficiency,
when it can power all flesh batteries,
all sun-drinking creatures
with the most vitality....
and at mid-day, we can
by the clock more reasonably look forward
to the redeeming comforts of home,
to pleasure and ease.
that, alone, could be enough to say
that noon is the best time of day.

but evening is the best time of day,
when the horizons are again painted
with garish inhuman colors,
and the wind might babble and heave
with added poetry and meaning,
and words like "gloaming" may be used,
and "twilight," and evening.
the lowest plow-beast
gets to sleep,

..and at this punctual darkening of day
we may safely remove our clothes in the company
of one another,
we may guzzle evil spirits without shame
or dire social consequence,
and we may plunge ourselves into the ten thousand things
that relieve us from
the grim plan of living...
into our wives and husbands and children,
into the orgy of hope and pleasure that is a New romance,
into our gardens and flagons and garages,
into ourselves where it is quiet and we
may comfortably fail to meet all expectations,
Ourselves where we are not like
shabby and disappointing strangers,
ourselves where we may always
find the gentle,
hypnotic embrace of nothing.
so evening is the best time of day,
and so,
must be the best time of life.

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