John Amen
FOLK SINGER
of course you’re suffering
that goes without saying
alone in yr own private tundra
staggering through the snow
the face of some Beatrice behind & before you
head & heart those masters of spin
weave from the unknown a threadbare tale
silence that gray country
where you arrive & arrive already judged
you crave anything that steams
be it liquid or flesh
as long as words & notes keep rolling
as long as there’s a chance
of surviving until spring
seeing that Beatrice again
she’ll slide a plate across the table
drop her dress to the floor
you won’t have to explain where you’ve been
or dance around yr conscience
o you holiest of fools
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