by Mary Campbell
Coffee: the tightening at the heart,
The wreath of ice, like thorns
Arranged there to give pleasure,
The interpenetration of the nerves
And mind, until thought
Bites at your breast — keen lover
Or gourmand to a sentient peach.
A little later in life, not much,
Cold beer ungirdles that tight
Garland, turns the nerves to rivers,
Gives them sense of their own
Latent, riotous joyfulness, as if
They were in bed in fact, always in beds,
And by them willows loosing their long hair.
And oh, the cigarette: beyond
These sexual illusions, the pure bliss
Of smoke loved for its own sake
The moment at which the body of man,
Alone among the animals,
Finds itself satified by nothing,
Or by a desire crafted to fulfill
A source of satisfaction.

0 thoughts on “Drugs

  1. I don’t get the imagery of the first two stanzas. I’m not a coffee drinker, but does the experience tighten the heart, “the wreath of ice, like thorns arranged there to give pleasure”? Is it constricting? Cold? Piercing? I can see the beer ungirdling that imagery, turning the “nerves to rivers,” which I like, but don’t see it always taking one to bed, for sex or whatever. The nerves may be “loosing their long hair” but not as willows, whose hair is already loosed. The third stanza I follow and find the phrase “satisfied by nothing, or by a desire crafted to fulfill a source of satisfaction” insightful. One drug leads to another, which leads the consumer to limbo, seems to be the poet’s premise, which I can’t buy, however. Caffeine, alcohol, and nicotine can lead to greater awareness, sense of being, and ability to cope. We’re not speaking of pot here, which can open other doors.

  2. i think there was a poem here a year or two-ish ago just like this, concerning these said drugs and i was like ‘HEY THESE AREN’T REAL DRUGS’ little did i know that all drugs are drugs. so i totally get the point of it now. everyone reacts differently to whatever drug and whatever at that.
    caffeine- i can definetely relate to that first paragraph oh yah babes. i’m supposed to be moving into the strictly de-caff zone right now to prepare myself for full-force migraine recovery but i’m being really stubborn about it because it’s my last drug gods motha-effin damn. i drink way too much of it but otherwise i feel okay with my inhibitions loosening up on auto-pilot and my thinking changing tone of voice.
    cigarettes made me twitchy, than smoke more cigarettes.
    evz. i’m always compelled to read drug poems and what others have to say about them. i like the tempo of this, it’s flowy wind gust stuff showing me the planet of someone elses mind whilst simultaneously matching my music. dig.
    i have no idea what gourmand means and i don’t care. it tastes clementine but i’m picturing grommets instead.

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