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An Empty Spoon

i was written, once, in a poem
by someone who was a stranger to me,
“on a bed he lies, with this soul in his hand but his hand
still feels so empty,
what is it that you’ve taken?
what is there that you have left?
everything, and nothing at all.”

i stepped onto the street with you on my mind,
before i caught myself, suspended a chute in my own mind,
you aren’t coming back.
i climbed the stairs again and curled into myself , and
i spoke to my God, and i asked Him,
was what you’ve taken ever really there,
or was it only my idea of us, in my mind, making peace?

an empty spoon is what i’ve got,
and a demon to wrestle with in the bowels of my soul.
i can put my shit on hold,
and spend some more nights looking at the
star painted ceiling in my mind.
my happiness comes not from fact that it cannot happen again,
but from the knowledge that it was never meant to be.

Untitled

Singing and hurting
And talking and walking
And eating and sadness
Are found on the sidewalks of the city.

They are crowded with the
Strange, the
Lonely, and the
Beautiful,
The sidewalks of the city.

Music is playing far away
The sun is making the concrete shine
The homeless man on the corner is smiling
Tar and trash and rusty cars will sparkle
in the beauty of every day.

Cars spit smoke
People beg and people sing
Trash is kicked from the edge of the building
To the edge of the street
The sun is shining through slits of concrete and aluminum
People will cry
People will run
People will hate
They’re sounds of the city
In the beauty of every day.

Untitled

I am a season chaser
I am a story maker
And I don’t feel there’s much love anymore
People are singing and crying to the blues
Run and drive to anywhere you’ll lose
Story makers make any story you choose
Dizzy dancing and riding the sky
A stranger thing never changed my mind
And seasons will run and turn into beauty
And stories will rot and turn into nothing
What am I to do?

Untitled

Why is my world the way it is?
When will I learn to accept the things that are?
I don’t want to have to accept
I’d rather have joy
And not have to find it
I don’t want to learn
I want to take
I don’t want to search
I don’t want to run
I want to stay

 

—poems by Alex Meyers

 

Poetry Submission Guidelines

In order to submit your work for consideration, please send one to four poems to Metroland, 4 Central Ave., Albany, N.Y. 12210, attn. Poetry in the Paper. Please send each poem on a separate page, and please be sure to put your name, address and phone number on each page. Due to the large amount of poetry we have been receiving, we will not be able to return your poetry submissions, so please send copies—no originals! Poetry selected for publication will appear in the print version of Metroland and on the Web at www.metroland.net for the duration of one issue (one week). Poets whose work has been published will receive a $25 gift certificate to a local bookstore.

Please do not send more than four poems. If you would like to make multiple submissions, you may do so, but please do not send all of your work at once.

Unfortunately, we will not be able to contact each and every poet who has submitted his or her work to Metroland. We would like to, but we’ve received a large number of submissions, and it would be virtually impossible to reply to you all. We apologize for any inconvenience. If you have any further questions, you may contact John Rodat at 463-2500, ext. 148.


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