Bar at East Capitol Road

My friend, drunk, spoke to me

outside a bar where we hung out;

and his eyes were red from tiredness,

from the alcohol, from the cigarette smoke,

and he told me about his grandmother,

who pissed herself

outside his uncle's gate

because he refused to let her in,

and how he wept in pity and despair.

In duly blooming like a lily flower,

I saw within him a he that is more he than he;

his insides were outside, and broken,

but I stood there, saying,

to me, lovely, you are magnificent;

night sky exploding with galaxies:

he, only light.

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Sally Houtman, Apr 24, 2014

Very nice. I like the stark contrast of the human and the cosmic.
.....
though I had to read this several times, and not sure I follow:

"a he that is more he and than he"

Amanda Harris, Apr 25, 2014

I actually like that line, and I like the narrator's uncertainty there--the idea that we know what's outside better than we know what's inside.*

I like the energy/imagery/insight/revelation of it vury much

(though first line of second stanza, to me, reads like a sonic tongue-twister).

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