Riding Thin

tenth pabst

collapse

this too will pass

pull strength

out of thin air

clean the bits from my hair

give it one more stab

in the gulch

where

the hurricane spins

a lot of people

ride thin and fall in

and still manage to swim

but I drown

until

I come around

and when my feet hit the ground

with purpose and sound

I give away

the urbane

to embrace the the slick terrain

one shoe will never know

if the other is completely blown

my audible groan

will let you know

at last I am home.

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Published in: on June 17, 2010 at 12:32 am  Comments (2)  
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Meet-her and Rhyt-him

That song in my head

was your whisper in my ear

that started a quickening beat

in my chest

foot on the bass pedal

thump thump thump

tap the hi-hat

wait for the pause

then a swell,

overwhelming,

of strumming guitar

an ambient eddy of liquid velvet

suspending me sideways

rustling my strings

into sublime vibrato,

my keys,

pulsed into rhythmic refrain

pound the chorus of angelic proclaims

the stick, drumming the taut-skinned head

with rapid licks

and pounds like bricks

your fingers on that neck dancing wild,

every extremity, defiled

with harmonic tingles

carrying every tender decibel deep inside

Published in: on June 17, 2010 at 12:21 am  Comments (6)  
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Sunny Noir

I want to know what happens

when there is a

sunny day in

the land of film noir.

It is seemingly raining or night at every given moment. Although there are many places on earth that are cloaked in months of rain, gray and dark, surely the sun does sometimes shine in their world. Otherwise they’d all have a bad case of rickets, right?

What does the double-crossed, horny, lovesick, quick-witted, tormented detective do with a beautiful spring day? And what of the fishnet laden, red lipsticked, chain-smoking bombshell widow? Does she drop the act and do a spot of gardening?

Published in: on June 10, 2010 at 11:05 pm  Leave a Comment  

Random ideas that never became poetry

Going to the flea market and observing all the impoverished people scooping up shiny objects reminds me of birds that collect foil scraps and other bits for their nests. Apparently you need trash in your home.

The subdivision houses show me false moons in the round windows of the dormers. It’s a disappointing double take.

When I look in the rear view all I see are cars going fast in multiple freeway lanes even though I am on a deserted country road. Weird as that may be, the music in this car is really good.

We lit a match and held it up to our chest, revealing our scars. We laughed about it. And then the wind snuffed the match.

Published in: on June 6, 2010 at 12:04 am  Comments (4)  
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