poem of the day 11.17.10

the loneliest and best part

this is the loneliest and best part of the day

sitting here with the radio on
waiting for the magic to happen

the loneliest and best part

with the hunger growing
and the dull bloom of the morning safely outside

this is the loneliest and best part

assured of love
content but not satisfied
in the condition of the continuing self

the hammering hours of work death
held at arm’s length

the loneliest and best part

sludge coffee, staring at a wall of fame
old wine and thai food stuck in my nostrils

contemplating hemingway and henry miller

the loneliest and best part

untouched and clean
no longer constipated from life
the sheet’s crumpled from good sleep
from years of good fucking
the bed awaiting the night

maybe the best part

the autumn air coming through the windows
as birds sing and cats hunt
as barking dogs pacify the dead
as rain comes to keep the streets bare

this is the loneliest and best part of the day

without another human alive
without the moan of buses and cars
without kids crying over school

the loneliest and best part

a stack of unwanted poems to my right
a hulk figurine my doppelganger
a handful of coins from countries that i’ve visited
a granite rock from the bottom of a new hampshire lake
to stare at when i’m lost

my grandfather’s watch
stuck at eleven thirty-two

this is the loneliest and best part of the day

it will be all downhill after this

they will get to me
because they always do

it is their job to get to me

but for now i have
the loneliest and best part of the day
to renew myself

i have maps of paris and london to look over
i have audrey hepburn smiling at me
holding her cursed cigarette

anne sexton giving me one of them looks
that always got her into so much trouble

the loneliest and best part of the day

here with picasso and van gogh
shakespeare and larry fine
here with elvis and the brooklyn bridge
here with f. scott, knut, and fante
here with stargell, clemente, aaron, ruth and mays
here with kerouac and bukowski
here with the beatles and proust

also here with you.