It’s just dust you say:
countless bones of the unknown
powdered milky way.
Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.
Anthem
Leonard Cohen
Now, break this apart
leave the repartee. Easy
tiger stripes of smoke.
A de-lovely day
today, yes, yesterday was
a revolution.
Going one-twenty
on the expressway express,
pissing man in peace.
The first flash finely
carved through the fog-filled window—
a premature birth.
Picture then picture prison.
As always the heart
of all organs. The music
of synthesizers.
Only a lonely
necessity. This urgent
squeal of jeepney tires.
They were recording
the exact measurement of rain,
venti or grande?
An imagined rain
fell on the city last night
baffling streetsweepers.
An impending storm,
a whirling derby dog race—
swirling caffeine pool.
The night was still hot,
piping through the lumps of heat—
old lugaw lovers.
These bones, hollow bones
are nothing but a feeling,
of old bulalo.
