Death Of The Stamped, Self-Addressed Envelope

DEATH OF THE STAMPED, SELF-ADDRESSED ENVELOPE

By JC STREET © 2004

For most they are
no more, these
winged beasts which carry only burden
back to the source
bearing bad tidings

I see my own hand inscribed
on the envelope and wonder who
could have sent this, until
the cold belly-hand grasps
its tidings of inconsequence, I

send them no more with my
paeans to word magic, I
use the computer instead to
cover the earth with dreams, like
Sherwin-Williams paint, I

staple copies to telegraph poles and
stick poems to the backs of moving vans, running
up from the Mississippi, Natchez to Scranton, I

let loose the doves of war, upthrusting
reams of them into the dawn, steal
piles of handbills left for boys in the dark and
substitute my own

messages of hope and drear

letters of sobbing need

invocations to all I have loved and filed as dried leaves in crannies

I need no more these missives of despair, instead
a longer envelope with imprint and faintly-viewed
drafts drawn upon
Bank of Boston

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