Some Poems by Patrick T. Randolph
Ides of March
Here—
Southside Chicago;
Prostitutes and recyclers,
Scrap metal yards and newspapers in the wind;
Good wholesome poetry—every Goddamn where you look!
Wild dogs come off the morning railroad tracks,
Homeless men yawning,
Southside streets—
Alive!
And Socrates Said
Take this with you to sleep;
The image of blue giggles
Escaping from a cloud’s
Euphorically dancing lips—
I assure you, as perfect as
A purple dawn surrounding
The iris of your closed eyes,
You will find the soundless
Paradise of dreamless sleep.