Hiking, wearing my brother’s
hand me downs, in the
Guadalupe Mountains
along the Pecos River, thinking
of the one that got away
Dreaming of cigarette
factory workers on a
street in Seville in
Bizet’s Carmen
Smokers outside odalisques
polluting paranoia, a coyote
howl resembling human
laughter echoing off stone
wakes me abruptly.
He was suppose to play sax in the band, nothing fortified him to be an infantry platoon leader Nothing prepared him for the freezing temperatures of a Korean winter He was no…
The ghosts flew down from the clouds above the quiet Rust Belt City Dust devils dance with scurrying rats behind the rusty locked doors Alarm clocks of progress ring but no one…
A curse hung in my ear, I got the bottle, poured myself a drink, lit a cigarette It didn’t make sense, some lady wanted to play, to know something about my business…
She’s got the jiggle in her dynamo wiggle An eight ball monkey on her back trying to eat up her mind While the guitars wept Howling Wolf, Leadbelly and the Mississippi blues…