Branch Library (audio only)
Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.
You never expected
to spend so many hours
staring down an empty sheet
of lined paper
in the harsh inner light
of an all-night diner,
ruining your heart
over mug after mug
of bitter coffee
and reading Meister Eckhart
or Saint John of the Cross
or some other mystic
of nothingness
in a brightly colored booth
next to a window
looking out
at a deserted off-ramp
or unfinished bridge
or garishly lit parking lot
backing up
on Detroit or Houston
or some other city
That’s the job, he said,
shrugging his shoulders
and running his hand
through his hair, like Dante,
or a spider
that knows its web,
That’s just the job,
he repeated stubbornly
whenever I complained
I was sitting across from the rotating sign
For the Liberty Brass Turning Company
Automatic Screw Machine Products
And brooding about our fathers
Always on the make to make more money
Screw Machine Products Automatic
Tender wounded brassy unsystematic
Free American men obsessing about margins
Machine Products Automatic Screw
Selling every day of their God-damned lives
To some Liberty Brass Turning Company
Products Automatic Screw Machine