Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Sanitation Jubilee

I am collector of garbage. The green dawn
and the yellow-good sun settle and clang the full
side of my face moving east. Oh, pull
of the primrose truck, you flowering warm and brusque,
you with your jonquil charm and the new musk
aroma of love, I surge forward with bull-
like proportion towards can and can and fling the wool-
weak effeminate garbage a-truck and toss the husk
away on the soulless ground. Oh glorious morn,
when the quiet city is mine and the pristine day
hasn't begun to burgeon the dead thorn
of the pale commuter, I arise I ascend in your gay
profusion of meaning and plunge heroic and sworn
through the golden morning, reposing in the stars of noon.

(This poem appeared in The Harvard Advocate.)

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