PDF

Something Else


by Samuel Derrick Rosen


 
I said I'd love to sculpt you, you thought me a little blunt.
Two holes precisely cut in the place where your eyes are,
you're a strange one.
Silver devils rolling by on their way to a cruel redemption,
and your boyfriend stark naked on a rocking chair screaming HOMER!
I know you have heard these words before
but I can't help but repeat them,
what you thought was an epiphany was most likely
something else.
 
You got married, your husband drank, you smoked opium,
or at least that was the way your dream went,
you're a junk-shop romantic. Your rooms, your corridors
are in dire need of janitors.
 
You come to me, an April fool in May,
beyond electric adverts, beyond absinthian recitation.
No resolution forthcoming, just an assault of bright blue glass
that seems to come from somewhere not listed
on these maps strewn beneath your feet.
Gather your diamantes, leave me on your cutting room floor.
What you thought was one thing was really something else.
 
Going barefoot in China where a two fisted pixie
ushers in the era of the sexy leprechaun,
amid faces of cowboy heroes,
brave cowards,
counterfeit femme-fatales
in slinky satin dresses, no underwear beneath.
You're a sentence never uttered in the history of mankind
in a place existing well beyond the looking glass,
adorned in a bright pink frock, with your dog that does not walk
making your way down to the faux pas French cafe,
with your pictures of museums and your deeply sleeping operas,
with your knowledge nothing has changed
the moment everything has,
where bare breasted natives
continually burn their bras.
where afternoons depart from back-doors of summers.
 
Won't you reveal your name to me?
Won't you play your deaf guitar?
Feast upon the moonlight dancing
out of step with itself
as it crosses the dumb meridians of your eyes.
You look like Gloria Swanson
crossed with Janis Joplin crossed with Cleopatra.

You know this is not a poem, you know it's something else.

Version 2


I said I'd love to sculpt you, you thought me a little blunt.
Two holes precisely cut in the place where your eyes are,
you're a strange one.
Silver devils rolling by on their way to a cruel redemption,
and your boyfriend stark naked on a rocking chair screaming HOMER!
I know you have heard these words before.

You got married, your husband drank, you smoked opium,
or at least that was the way your dream went,
you're a junk-shop romantic. Your rooms, your corridors
in dire need of cleaning. What you thought was an epiphany
was most likely something more.
Endcap