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No. 9

Distress

James Schuyler

I am distressed:
nonsense complexities
of life: I want
flowers always
marigolds (two
dollars worth)
are on the table:
the bitter acid
of crushed leaves.
And they die:
can I afford
a single rose,
more Peggy Lee,
Brook Benton,
the Duke, I
want all their
discs, not
one or two:
I want the one
for which I
fruitlessly
seek: a piano
sort of blues
slow marked
a rhythm varying
but never brisk
no sudden moves
the music to
which I write
my poems, songs
that sing to me
on my stereo
and to which I
live and write.
I am in love
with life.

midnight
first day of fall
1985

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