poem
Volume 32, Number 4

Sailing to Byzantium

The dog down the road is barking USA, USA

&, after starting out looking for something else, I am
now surfing through 57 varieties of Don't Cry For Me
Argentina
on YouTube, none of which is Madonna's

& the rain has gone, but the wind continues

& the things I have to do but so far haven't done
are starting to overwhelm me

What was that line from Frank O'Hara? Quick,
another poem before I go off my rocker!

& I have just realized I wrote selde instead of else
in that earlier line. Now corrected

Which means my mind is going, & not just round
in circles

& that is a steal from the Michel Legrand song
“Les moulins de mon cœur” but I'm stopping myself
from trawling through YouTube for versions of it
because I have things to do that aren't getting done

&, besides, the dog down the road is now barking
Taliban, Taliban. How quickly they change their tune

They are coming on the right day. I begin to gird
my loins. It comes out as gild my lions. They
begin to roar. Potemkin all over again.


—Mark Young