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.
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