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In Praise of Jikan, the Monk

I give you those drunken nights on Trinity Street
and the young girls in the degenerate air
although you do not wish for them.

You have your own drunken nights
among the lovelorn
and forlorn young women in their thigh-high boots.

Certainly, I am not here to lay claim
to anything beyond the dull circumstance
of my own downfall.

There are no secrets I can tell you.
I damaged every woman I ever loved.
I risked it all in my pursuit of innocence.

I used to think I could shoulder
another’s pain as if it were my own,
I thought I could rescue the fallen and the lame –

when I could not even prevent my own disgrace,
or find a justification
for my wayward sensibilities.

I give you my girlfriend’s telephone number,
safe in the knowledge
that I can no longer satisfy her.

If I had only one minute left to live,
I would give it up, listening to you, singing:
where do all these highways go, now that we are free…

Hi Marcan ~

Reading your second poem brought me to revisit your first, which I like better upon my rereading of it. I read it through only once initially.

Certainly, I am not here to lay claim
to anything beyond the dull circumstance
of my own downfall.

There are no secrets I can tell you.
I damaged every woman I ever loved.
I risked it all in my pursuit of innocence.

[I don't know about the women with thigh-high boots, though .]

I think what I like most about this poem is its conversational, man-to-man tone, of admissions and acceptance of failures, where all men might have wanted to succeed.

If I had only one minute left to live,
I would give it up, listening to you, singing:
where do all these highways go, now that we are free…

This is a fine tribute to Leonard. As I understand it, some have done almost, if not literally, that very thing... your first two lines.


~ Lizzy

Hi Mark

Excellent poem here. A poem that is as much a tribute to Leonard Cohen and his work as it is a statement about the speaker. Poignant, true, self deprecating. Good work, Mark.

Chris

Wonderful stuff, Mark. I'm glad I read your ref. to this poem in the newbie thread. Worth bumping it back up. I loved the ending...the whole thing was so poignant. The voice was terrific.

Very moody melancholy, Mark.

caught up in the fancies of dreaming poets
hurling recklessly throughout the darkened night

This could have been written as a comment for this thread and poem, Sebby!
Matj