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The fARM

The Poem at the Bottom of the Whiskey Bottle

By Henry Kastler

Another bet won
Whiskey as the warmth changes
from a silky heat
to an autumn sunrise song
that you can't, don't want to
get out of your throat.
All around, the world is
moving snapshots
some blurred some clear
tiled into a wall
that is no longer there.
A taste of freedom
in the essence
a feel of handcuffs
in the aftermath
the whole body sensation
of oceanic relaxation.
Oh this whiskey
is a wonderful thing.
Where are my friends and family?
The heart beats stronger
while the mind fades
into a sotto voce I love you
meant for no one and the One,
into a message in a bottle
magnified by green glass flesh
and whirls of cigarette smoke.
Felt like a phantom limb,
the old world flies by
in missing man formation
for every gain there is a loss
for every loss there is the hushed roar
of jet black doppler effects,
contrails x-ing the o sky.
Heaven is where the air is,
even when it hurts to breathe.
There is after all
the tumbler on the table
and the bottom of the whiskey bottle
and the melodies of drinking songs
that become national anthems,
footsteps on wet asphalt street
histories and walks
in the fog, distilled.


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Copyrightę2001 by Henry Kastler.

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