going places I'll remember with my friends
Silver Juice?, 2007
Glow
-- Ron Padgett
When I wake up earlier than you and you
are turned to face me, face
on the pillow and hair spread around,
I take a chance and stare at you,
amazed in love and afraid
that you might open your eyes and have
the daylights scared out of you.
But maybe with the daylights gone
you'd see how much my chest and head
implode for you, their voices trapped
inside like unborn children fearing
they will never see the light of day.
The opening in the wall now dimly glows
its rainy blue and gray. I tie my shoes
and go downstairs to put the coffee on.
Oh Yes
-- Charles Bukowski
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.
bluehawk
-- John Sinclair
late one night
in the early ’60s
between sets
at the village vanguard
charles mingus
was holding forth
on the current struggle
for black liberation
& making a lot of noise
when monk walked up,
stood there & listened,
then shook his head
& said to charlie,
‘goddamn, mingus,
I never knew
you was black!’
Real Life
-- Kim Addonizio
Here we walk without wallets,
no keys to anything. The gates
swing open, we move among the
cows, hot hills, at night through wet
foxtails; the kitchen light hums
winged things circle it. Yesterday
you slit a snakeskin and found
the diamond pattern interrupted,
in the center, by a heart:
covered it in salt, tacked
it to a board for drying out.
This evening it's soft, the scale
you peel for me a tiny
translucency in my hand.
Silver Juice?, 2007
Glow
-- Ron Padgett
When I wake up earlier than you and you
are turned to face me, face
on the pillow and hair spread around,
I take a chance and stare at you,
amazed in love and afraid
that you might open your eyes and have
the daylights scared out of you.
But maybe with the daylights gone
you'd see how much my chest and head
implode for you, their voices trapped
inside like unborn children fearing
they will never see the light of day.
The opening in the wall now dimly glows
its rainy blue and gray. I tie my shoes
and go downstairs to put the coffee on.
Oh Yes
-- Charles Bukowski
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.
bluehawk
-- John Sinclair
late one night
in the early ’60s
between sets
at the village vanguard
charles mingus
was holding forth
on the current struggle
for black liberation
& making a lot of noise
when monk walked up,
stood there & listened,
then shook his head
& said to charlie,
‘goddamn, mingus,
I never knew
you was black!’
Real Life
-- Kim Addonizio
Here we walk without wallets,
no keys to anything. The gates
swing open, we move among the
cows, hot hills, at night through wet
foxtails; the kitchen light hums
winged things circle it. Yesterday
you slit a snakeskin and found
the diamond pattern interrupted,
in the center, by a heart:
covered it in salt, tacked
it to a board for drying out.
This evening it's soft, the scale
you peel for me a tiny
translucency in my hand.
2 Comments:
photo fields of wheat.
signed, sherwood anderson
Thank you in particular for the Kim Addonizio.
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