The rhythm of poetic verse
Is not a prison – not a hearse
It frames a space for spark and muse
And fits the truth with walking shoes
1/28/2006
1/26/2006
The Adhesive is Failing
Cubes of cold marimba
Clatter against the shallow sides
Of a thick-bottomed glass
My grandfather grips the Manhattan
Like a handrail
Beads of condensation
Blink between his tanned fingers
His black Oxfords tread
Worn-out linoleum
Stuck to farmhouse floorboards
The adhesive is failing
Clatter against the shallow sides
Of a thick-bottomed glass
My grandfather grips the Manhattan
Like a handrail
Beads of condensation
Blink between his tanned fingers
His black Oxfords tread
Worn-out linoleum
Stuck to farmhouse floorboards
The adhesive is failing
1/23/2006
Porch Piano
Unboarded for summer
June bugs thumb heavily
Against rusted screens at night
Cigar clamped in his unshaved smile
Cocktail nearby
Eyes the color of sea foam
His right hand pets a melody
While the left strides
Between chord comp and bass line
From a never-tuned piano
Whispering, Stardust, and Blue Hawaii
Drift nightward like spirits
June bugs thumb heavily
Against rusted screens at night
Cigar clamped in his unshaved smile
Cocktail nearby
Eyes the color of sea foam
His right hand pets a melody
While the left strides
Between chord comp and bass line
From a never-tuned piano
Whispering, Stardust, and Blue Hawaii
Drift nightward like spirits
Labels:
Grandfather,
Music,
Nostalgia,
Poetry,
Summertime
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