Glass Poetry Press

Volume One Issue Three

Christopher Flakus

Streetlight Mantra

Poems and manifestoes scrawled on the sides of a urinal downtown East river blues drifting gently across the South Congress Bridge Swarm of bats unleashed to feast upon grub and flying gnats Walls unmasked and stripped clean of thoughts and garbage Bare skin, sweating, melancholy voices Earth that stinks of peat and woe Coffee, empty packs of cigarettes And Stevie Ray singing on the radio twice a day, sometimes three or four times Playing endlessly and still remaining somewhat meaningful Though the voice is long dead and gone I think of myself and see Gustave Courbet Gripping locks of brown poet"s hair Between fingers dirtied by paint The desperate man The desperate man How unbelievably sweet it is to become truly lost In a city you do not know And can never hope to understand, so maybe you will see me here Smoking crooked cigarettes under a slant of Texas rain in the moonlight