Sometimes, I feel I gotta get away
Dan Tague, The Kids Are Alright, 2011
The American Dream
-- by Robert Creeley
Edges and disjuncts, shattered, bitter planes,
a wedge of disconsolate memories to echo fame,
fear of the past, a future still to blame--
Multiple heavens, hells, nothing is straight.
You earn your money, then you wait
for so-called life to see that you get paid.
Tilt! Again it's all gone wrong.
This is a heartless, hopeless song.
This is an empty, useless song.
The Face of Love
-- by Frank Stanford
he has one of them
like a very famous
nobody
her mother was good looking
and drove a convertible
her father a drunk
they invited me to their home
several times
they went over my shoes
looked at my pistols
they had lovely affairs there
the grandmother
was hard of hearing
and wore a disfigured cameo
she told of days gone
when she rode an Arabian to the Landing
to meet the boat
there would he books and cologne from Paris
material and perhaps a piano
and no counts from New Orleans
as the story goes she married one
it turned out this way
and the legend continues
blood and starlight in the river
African violets and capes
Chopin and back roads
and her granddaughter was just like him
silent and cruel
always taking her beauty rest
and her best friend's
friends
Spirit
-- by Gregory Corso
Spirit
is Life
It flows thru
the death of me
endlessly
like a river
unafraid
of becoming
the sea
Dan Tague, The Kids Are Alright, 2011
The American Dream
-- by Robert Creeley
Edges and disjuncts, shattered, bitter planes,
a wedge of disconsolate memories to echo fame,
fear of the past, a future still to blame--
Multiple heavens, hells, nothing is straight.
You earn your money, then you wait
for so-called life to see that you get paid.
Tilt! Again it's all gone wrong.
This is a heartless, hopeless song.
This is an empty, useless song.
The Face of Love
-- by Frank Stanford
he has one of them
like a very famous
nobody
her mother was good looking
and drove a convertible
her father a drunk
they invited me to their home
several times
they went over my shoes
looked at my pistols
they had lovely affairs there
the grandmother
was hard of hearing
and wore a disfigured cameo
she told of days gone
when she rode an Arabian to the Landing
to meet the boat
there would he books and cologne from Paris
material and perhaps a piano
and no counts from New Orleans
as the story goes she married one
it turned out this way
and the legend continues
blood and starlight in the river
African violets and capes
Chopin and back roads
and her granddaughter was just like him
silent and cruel
always taking her beauty rest
and her best friend's
friends
Spirit
-- by Gregory Corso
Spirit
is Life
It flows thru
the death of me
endlessly
like a river
unafraid
of becoming
the sea
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