A ravaging storm of rain and wind,

On the final Halloween weekend,

Empties the streets of this Halloween town.

Witch’s hats are blown by the blast.

The ghouls of hell are gone at last.

The Christian preachers tried their best

To shame false gods in Halloween dress.

They laughed. Now nature’s wind and rain

Brings normalcy back to the streets again.

Normalcy is my God, much more

Than the harrowing spectacles of Christian lore,

Priests with their earnest, “Be good!”

Or more sly: “Find religion in pond or wood.”

(Just give me exercise and decent food.)

Discipline establishes space and room

For me to know a certain serenity in gloom,

Chaos, betrayal, misfortune.

Calmly, I light a cigarette in the wind.

A cigarette brings me closer to God.

Not “a smoker,” one smoke and I feel odd.

Tingling, I feel the need to shit; I fart;

Relaxing the body is the best medicinal art

And the secret to sex. I felt relaxed with you,

But the problem, of course, was you; we always feel

Troubled by others. We know only the self is real.

Sometimes we doubt the existence of our mask,

But the true self will never tell, so please don’t ask.

I smile. How to explain normalcy to you?

A Marxist, you want to change the world. How best to feel

What I feel about the rain, the wind, and the leaves falling?

Is that your phone? Someone’s calling.

Better take it. A cigarette, like God, changes your view

With a feeling, a small feeling which has nothing to do

With the view, but changes the view.

That’s all I need to know of God. Or Marx. Or you.





1 Comment

  1. Desdi said,

    October 30, 2018 at 1:09 pm

    The cold night of All Hallows draws near
    but the reason is somewhat less clear;
    The reigning esthetic
    is Gothic-Poetic
    and sugar eclipses all fear . . .

    The idea that spirits abound,
    that The Dead ever hover around,
    is a lie straight from Hell
    and a fable to sell
    souls and sugar, per ounce and per pound.

    Halloween: put a mask on the mess.
    As a nation, we ought to confess
    that our sin’s overflowing;
    our evil is showing—
    we’re due for a trick, I would guess.

    Using candy, they settle the score:
    secret weapon in Lucifer‘s war
    for this treat dietetic
    we’re pre-diabetic,
    dressed up as the ghosts that we are.

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