look how we became the stars themselves!
each hand waving to a sound
rocketing through our bones
stadium a solar system
vocal chords straining and the only
fissure that of time:
youth-summer-black-white all orbiting an encore.
[from the Jay Z, Justin Timberlake concert last night in Baltimore – the song Forever Young, in tribute to Trayvon Martin, the entire stadium lit up with phones, the entire stadium singing along]
wanted to take a look at one i posted back in the first days of this here blog 🙂 enjoy and have a great weekend. #readpoetry!
One summer, I saw a Texas-style Paul McCartney
in a dark mahogany leather coat
slurring to Bob Dylan’s “rainy day woman”
outside the full moon at a wrangler bonfire in
Last night, I saw a gray haired woman, four feet tall,
in full length tattered gown
swirling in her mess of beads
and her hands in the air like she was
I saw myself tripping on the old Baltimore cobblestones.
I saw myself drunk with Janis and having a grand old time.
Harmonies tightly weave as
thin clouds hula the moon tonight.
One crab, alone, swims like a small
girl dressed in white, spinning.
The old men on stage appear to be
apparitions from a past volant –
all long hair, flowers, and sweet blue eyes.
and in a sunken corner of the coffee shop
the man dark slumped over and buttoned
bottom to brim in black, stares at her
in ankle boots with such a heel, tapping.
In a fractured instance he appears
to her a tired blues man, a fortune folk teller,
and all around them the caffeinated air hums…
pour me a glass
of Domaine champagne
with a faux fur coat
stilettos, nothing else –
you’ve got a guitar slung
low, singing Stills,
chasing the light as it
dims down low, oh,
just the way we like it.
the wood here smell
two dancers find their
rhythm while an old lady
with her dog
all the while
the upright bass
and the man on my side
says, with whiskey
i hate myself this
the blinds give us
of a man
cork bottle glasses
green house plants
hit a low
wireless problems persist…. but these morning poems might be interesting in their own right (maybe)
Bob Marley grooves the
morning, coffee seduces
jam, “feel alright” now
when rain falls
in the nascent glow
of a streetlight,
it seems to wear a veil,
a widow’s gown
you and i
have felt the distance
between two knees
sitting too close
it’s taken its toll
the bells of the church
agree – and inside
The Beatles lament
those headlights in the rain.