There's a soft rumbling in the belly of your guitar
reminds me of just how small my hands are--
gentle ends of my finger tips
match the humming inside my lips--
But you'll condescend now with structured chords
you all with your betwitching stringed gourds
I fumble and shake and forget my place
Get lost in the black hole of memory's embrace--
reminds me of how small my hands were
and so the spotlight I would always defer
gentle ache in the belly of my guitar
my true self trapped inside the mason jar.
Tickle your toes. . .
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
-
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but... -
RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
-
Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
-
two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked... -
husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
Poets United Contributor
No comments:
Post a Comment