1:43 AM (The Quiet Eruption) by David Potsubay

1:43AM (The Quiet Eruption)

Heresy and healing, a hermaphrodite of hate and love.

A dark swamp, snake-rippled water, the black mud

of Louisiana bayou, baying like a whore in heat.

An escalation of energy, a semblance of the sweet sound

of orgasm, the inadequacy slipping away, a silver ghost.

Dans le restaurant, (hey Eliot!) I spy, with a little cry,

the God of Misery, and, at the bar, as we drink our

beers, he says to me, “You’re sitting in Rimbaud’s seat.”