Saturday, July 2, 2011

Strings (#1): Climbing



Climbing

Did you mean to say that to me?
It must be the candle smoke
bringing tears to our eyes.
What is it that we set the alarm for?

          ***

We are rocking-rocking on Linoleum,
clutching old gloom, twitchy-lipped.
We are on scraped-bloody knees
and on stone tablets from anybody's god.

          ***

Caesar paws his sunlit head,
walks rapid beside his stallion,
saying to it, Keep an eye on me.
His shade laughs at omen and shield.

          ***

Baby says, What you don't realize....
Sand and sawdust, last times and new times,
able more and able no more: Take it easy.
For the love of some god, put down that glass.

          ***

A river-shallow late summer in Georgia,
Doc Holliday feels askew... reading Euripides,
Better a saucy whore than a mother-in-law's
finicky daughter.  Doc feels older than twelve.

          ***

Before the many years detached, solitary:
cash in a cranny and a prairie hen over a fire.
Furnished many moments calm, a few mud holes,
it was plenty to watch a Wolfhound nose a cow skull.

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