BETTER BET

October 12, 2019

Maybe I can meet you

After my shift, hell after all my shifts

I’ll come to you from the usual dark

The black from the outside

Will brighten some on your skin

We’ll be less dissatisfied

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If  when  we  go  off

With all of our ghosts, when we lift

We’ll come to ditch the usual dark

That black from outside

With more tempered dreams to venture

To be less dissatisfied

P A R I S

August 24, 2019

I LONG to stay stabbing, & stay above

The sullen, crestfallen  long run of things.

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ALONG our river, a song, not near, comes outa corridor

Firelight on a black and white picture. Above.

One  man  walks  on  red  leaves

In a black & white picture  of

The long run of things.

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A  LONE  man,  leaves,  and dawn

Draping him.  Not much

Escape for him, in the long run of things.

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.theLouis-Philippe Bridge

Le pont Louis-Philippe vu à travers le pont Marie (version flou), circa 1935

[From the Réunion des Musées Nationaux]

A GOOD WORD PLEASE

February 7, 2019

All oncoming traffic headlit my shadows, just behind this parapet

No, that’s not the word, really

Not that word, a good word though

Like “peripatetic”   for me

You,  “peridot”.

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Oncoming traffic’s shadows brush me rough

I’m tucked in a kinda cove  in some lemon grove

I’m sitting it out  for a breakout

Once the sun’s out

I’ll turn & make out for greener pastures

I’ll make up for  what they seen as grave errors.

 

“IT’S DOLDRUMS”

December 31, 2018

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I told them all  it’s doldrums

All the 12 months long

I expressed it every xmassy card

I dotted every I  with frowns

I exclaimed it to all these clowns

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I fear it’s been a bear market

But I bet & bet my best/ But I failed to divest

But man, it’s only money

But where  all that woulda got me

On a ticket outa here

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So I told them all  It’s doldrums

I’ve stayed standing in a stagnant river

My luck, my ebb lost it’s suck

& my flow flounders  my Go

I know this new year, I can just know

“I  gotta  blast, bro'”

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Later, near midnight, past my last beer,

Past the traditional tribal Mexican feast

Later, at least near midnight,  past her

Fast asleep,   past  the  year,

I’ll sail to something  I can’t name.

I can get a candle  & focus  on it’s flame.

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(photo:”midnight poetry”/GR MELVIN

faithful

September 28, 2018

Mostly most of my lovers I’ve let go, they still know

I’m  faithful.

Y’know, that by belittling me..(so I’m blanketing you with just talk?)

Go shut down your psychic powers

I’ve just put in twelve hours

At the hospital reteaching my much better half how to walk.

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She fell off her horse in a storm.

Lightening spooked both of them  the same time.

The dumb animal stood by her/  in all the wet.

It might have just bolted/  the thunder said “Go!”

The Wild  and men are meant to just go.

I’ve pity, not hatred  not yet

Alive,  but domesticated, caught in its net

 

 

F L I N T

August 30, 2018

In the “quiet time” the hospital designates

When visitors gotta go

Ok so I opened a Modelo

& vacuumed the space between the davenport

& the coffee table where you like us to eat

& dared some dreams of arson

Oh I sat easy enough at one half of a love seat

I wouldn’t want  to reread Kant

On  Duty  and  Obligation

I’d doubt he’d sway me

His hard ass way

The escape  dreams prefer are fire escapes

 

Go get only things you can carry

Stand up straight  Cast straight shadows

One effin  flick of flint

Can  brighten  bad  roads

 

 

“DETAINED”, CAUGHT

June 5, 2018

What were they thinking

I’m not to leave town

I’m a faceted test pattern  Blinking

Personas of interest  Renown

Only to the  powers that be

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Ok  I get cagey  occasionally

Ok  yet I remain   With the reminder

Of stoic  stands  that been

Lost, inconsequential,

Cost  monumental  to just a man

seattle 2014 065

Photo: my  “Hell’s Ditch”

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“It is the burden of life to be many ages

without seeing the end of time.”  Jim Harrison

 

 

 

 

An ordinary miracle

Might  make my day  good night.

An everyday freak  hailstorm

Should soften the  certain gravitas of  agony..

Would my monday to monday/ Gone on to a good gravy, when

My  dumptruck  of good luck   sails in?

All this will be laid to waste.

Then  strong  sprouts/ in not long/ will  no doubt

Green  the  place.

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(5 yrs back)

16F

May 14, 2018

A windowseat is great

In an all night diner

It was unfair the Airport

Shorted  me  enough

Stuffed me, a long-legged  man

With a long-winded rant

I stifled in my windowseat.

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My legs were cropped up crinkled

Like the babies sitting next me

Their cries exited and were emitted freely

Some cries  deep inside  deep inside me.

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I bet one windowseat would be great

In a darkened diner

My inner world would wander

That  eighteen  wheeler

Lots of legroom  not so tight

Roads to walk  upright

 

SOME SKETCHY SANCTUM

December 4, 2017

 

Some seem to see the floor of the sea

as a sketchy, yet effective sanctuary.

They’re thinking, I think, that it’s tucked away

good. &  Could be quite quiet.

Sure would be  you’d dream good there.

Surely, it goes  you must breathe free much slower.

Sure,  bluegreen cracks for surface lightening.

But, You’ll see  that jeweled fishes,

Stilled  with  witness,

Flee at the softest flourish.

And bets are..sandbeds there are busy with movement.

How can my dreams take when I’m floating awake?

 

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