Brooklyn Bridge Voyant

Brooklyn Bridge Voyant
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“As I came”
—Arthur Rimbaud
The Drunken Boat

I’m slightly ahead of time—anxious
Impatient to find—the place and formula
Can the door be opened—am I too late?
It’s in the future—beyond Buchanan

Surely I’ll end up in—the Behemoth’s guts
Cosmopolitan swank—archipelago angst
Exiled & phlegmatic—a failed poet
Demon youth—of this being, myself

Metropolitan parapets—electric dawns
Countless cruel days—bottomless heights
Hart Crane voyager—we’ll do tangos
On the Brooklyn Bridge—late at night

Let me voyage—my brooding corpse
Voyant to waves—sad Adieu to Seine
I’ve had it with—myself and villains
The biggest rogue—being myself

As I cross—this impossible Atlantic
I feel a bogeyman—guiding me on
Toward America—naked waiting sons
Foreskins nailed—to tall skyscrapers

What do I care—for Paris anymore?
The English Channel—isn’t wide enough
I need a whole—ocean to getaway
Leaving behind Europe—once & for all

Furious whitecaps—luxurious waves
Emptying my mind—goodbye Parnassians
Westward—great unknown continent
Take me away—from French despair

Angry with that—tempest in teapot
Verlaine the whore—my mousy wife
Kvetching bitch—drowning in ink
More maudlin moody—than even me

Soured youth—disillusioned debutante
Sperm infusing—my milky virgin asshole
My naive drunken boat—sunk by voyeurs
So much for the—Paris intelligentsia

This sleek ocean liner—thru sullen waves
Stalked by whitecaps—slinking depths
Deep in a forest—glass, steel skyscrapers
Enormous Texts—are waiting for me

Forward glances—modern works
Hidden wrecks—prehistoric wonders
Children of El Dorado—orphans of Orpheé
West coast gold rushes—SF Renaissances