We stopped at the populous metropolis
In hills piled portentously,
...
Seeking The New World
We stopped at the populous metropolis
In hills piled portentously,
Coyly covering some code or key.
That place at least,
Wooden wharf-edged on the wide Western surge,
With pretty painted houses high-perched,
And fantastic sky-searching pinnacles
Of glass and steel at their feet,
We indeed did reach
After many a desolate highway mile.
We came,
Our wistful hearts fired by Desire for higher adventure,
Piqued, youthful, yearning toward some subtle bliss-
A halcyon clarion call more faint than that song
Underneath the brazen blood
Ringing in your ears
At a moment of pure silence you meet
With a quiet mind.
I do not know what, in that new place, we expected to see
With the same old sunlight,
But perhaps
Because even the sunlight seemed fresh
And we had nothing to lose
(Home, family, friends changed
Made unreal and rearranged
By the heady draught
Of undergraduate life)
Every breath in that city was a gift.
Despite
The streets so full of urine’s reek,
Foul words encased in double-speak,
Cheap tricks and trinkets, tacky-bleak,
And flesh displayed for bold and weak.
We sought on the very edge of America
The dream that drove
The restless settlers Westward,
Discovered, as they did, we could not
Find anything we had not brought
So though a beautiful mist gathered
Over the Bay
At the break
Of a comely day
I fear we found
In that city
(Which was impressive,
Do not misunderstand me)
Only a wilted soiled aspiration
Cast aside
Midst mashed Marlboro butts
And dampened with gentle rain.