Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MEDITATION ON THE BMT, by PAUL BLACKBURN



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MEDITATION ON THE BMT, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Here, at the beginning of the new season
Last Line: Nearly empty train / empty
Subject(s): Brooklyn, New York; Subways


Here, when the new season is just
beginning, until new leaves bloom, on
both sides of the Eastern Parkway Station
near the Botanic Gardens
, waste is burned on the mound,
flaunting all our sad civilized rubbish.

1 can of coffee, does not contain lead
1 empty bottle of whiskey, the label
faded from the rain
1 empty bottle of beer
2 empty bottles of bourbon
1 empty condom next to which passes
1 almost empty train
empty
empty
empty
If repeated many times, the word itself sounds ridiculous.

The man in the alley uncertainly but stubbornly carries
his morning load,
leaning against the wall, leading his hand along
the line,
greasy, red, as he passes
a can of coffee bottle of beer condom beer fire
by
faded bricks and jagged cement to empty the bladder
in the gloom of a light-filled morning
in something like loneliness, for some reason
necessary. Sum. The cold of a
winter morning in the spring, when it is cold, until
the mood is raised, and the sun rises, and there are no
rules according to which the dead are rewarded.

My gaze
penetrates the empty backyards, my backyards
Oh, I love you.
backyard, I entice you and you,
my barren, clogged mounds, now that you
have a little heat and fire to keep warm and clean, be
thankful that people are still caring for you, still
snatching your weird waste
from your weird slopes.

Poor Brooklyn soil
poor American land
poor cowardly houses
poor hurricanes of streets, your
underground and aboveground life somehow lasts
all the same, under
garbage that is really a rejection, with alienated,
awkward, unthinking citizens who will become less
unhappy, happier, freer if they
empty their blisters near some
shitty wall.






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