EREMITE POETRY

​BRYAN MYERS

IS THERE A REVOLUTION IN MY HEART

or is it just bad poetry?
I’m thinking of the kids I teach online, their yawning
as Muslims during Ramadan
 
I have to tell myself that it’s not because of me
and that reminds me of smoking cigarettes behind a Dunkin Donuts
in blue jeans, white t-shirt
 
who the hell do I think I am?
 
Bruce Springsteen singing about Atlantic City in my ears
as I know I have found my nirvana on the other side of the world
 
here
 
in Da Nang, Vietnam
 
and I listened to him singing while I escaped the hostels of Budapest
scrimping and saving like a cliche street sweeper limping to a Starbucks
on the corner of a busy highway or in Bali, too
 
the heat
was getting to me
all around the world, and so I often succumb to depressions and doubt
and disfigurement of body and mind
 
and my soul
rests so very still
 
I am ashamed
of not being stronger on those days
so how can I have a revolution in my heart?
 
listening to Rage Against the Machine helps, but where did
Zack
go?
 
is he growing a whimsical beard like Whitman
who spent his whole life bouncing around Brooklyn and New Jersey
looking for a place, his place in the world—it was finally
 
afterall
 
within his own heart, glowing eyes
a book of poems he reworked for decades
and then
they named a bridge after him in Philadelphia
connecting it to Camden
 
that turned into a drug-fueled
warzone
 
ah, but that journey in the 19th century
I’d looked on it longingly like Kerouac, Ginsberg
and they said I was born in the wrong generation
 
or maybe that’s not really true
maybe
I just want the city, any city
to name a beer
after me
 
and what did I stand for? was it true?
 
I think too much
and
that only gets in
the way
 
of a path, the Universe
speaks
 
I let it
and dream
a little while—             and then
 
I
will
 
strike.

NO COUNTRY IS PERFECT

I saw her in my dream
she was in a bathroom
but she had an iPad on a bar
but nobody was drinking
and I think she’d been talking to the cops
            behind
my back, almost
            as a conspiracy
 
for what?
 
I asked her, locking the door
so she could no longer be their puppet
and damn it all, she was in that beautiful red dress
            that
felt like
            a
manipulation
that no longer worked
 
and I woke up realizing that I am still
traumatized
by losing her,
            our
conversations
about the world
were
so
good
as we’d traveled to seven
countries
together
 
we understood
that every country had its own problems
and there were easy moments, too
when we talked about sex together
nobody around
 
we were in our own
world, creating it
 
demolished
 
by not
believing
 
in our-
selves
 
that’s what
hurts now, is that
ultimate regret
 
like staring
out a window
while reading
a book
and not really understanding
why you can’t
just be
content
 
in the life, and the world
that you wanted
in the first place.
Picture
BIO: 

​Bryan
 has been away from America for more than two years, currently living in Da Nang, Vietnam. In 2019, he traveled to 12 countries. He's had stuff published in various lit mags. In April 2021, he signed a publishing contract for a poetry chapbook. He's also self-published 15 books. His website is bryanwilliammyers.com. (Twitter: @bryanwillmyers) (IG: @bryanwilliammyers)
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  • EREMITE CONVERSATIONS
    • SEMILORE KILASO
    • SAMUEL A. ADEYEMI
    • CHIDERA IHEKERELEOME-OKORIE
    • JOSHUA EFFIONG
  • Submission Guidelines
  • About