April 13, 2007


Space defines old motels:
maybe the Jayhawker
in Kansas or hitching to Gloucester
for one last
Maximus go round


Who burns every letter
lets manuscripts go
like caged butterflies
keeps a room tight, squeaky
clean like vestiges are
no more?

They’ll have to pick through
erasers, chirp like black sparrows
see the beauty in absence
call up treats with invisible ink
dance around the table radio:

Mozart and The Supremes
Bird and a coroner’s cap


The stars hold with offshore breezes
the trinity of Olson, Duncan
and you never get left
they just search harder and farther

they just mumble and fumble
your name

—Lawrence Welsh
“Elegy for John Wieners” originally appeared in GYPSY

Posted by dwaber at April 13, 2007 11:40 AM