Still Life With Coffee Can, Father, River, Bell, Mouse, Lover Fled Comments

Thanks for the patient read through, Dave. I've been dicking and dickering with this unwieldy poem for over a year now and have published variations of it, butchered, remembered, dismembered, chunks placed hither and yon as the damned unwieldy thing falls iiritatingly down down cascades down the damned screen-page (who would wanna work that hard to read the damned thing?) ...but it still rings out to me, taps me on the shoulder and says, Yo...Wassup with me n you? and then I'm back at it charmed then throwing it all in the waste can/coffee can of effortful memory/folder/file for later or never...this is the latest attempt...I don't know if you know New York City at all or remember the large Maxwell House Coffee Sign on the Jersey side of the Hudson River as seen from Riverside Drive or Park (Manhattan side of the river) at night one big cup tilting and spilling one red/brown dropp of coffee into the black and shining water silently rushing toward the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, under it and into the Atlantic Ocean? ...in 1980 when I moved here (NYC) from the Blue Ridge Mountains to Harlem, West 142nd Street, I'd sit on the old stone wall by the river and see the Coffee Sign bright against backdrops of Hoboken lights and surface river reflections of discolored city sky...now all memory by the by....and one poem as restless and current-driven as the Hudson...but such is memory which is never, or rarely, linear but associative thus the associative (Freud would say loose associations) cadence of the poem... Again, thanx for the patience to scroll down down down and spill one hopes out into grand Atlantics of mind and muse. Warren Falcon

I find the long-winded lack of objective to be troublesome-nevertheless I enjoyed the LANGUAGE aesthetic idea of this poem nearly to the last drop.