wings

Throw them back at me again
Sidelong glances
Slithery smiles
Your blue.

Throw me into yesterday
When time
Seemingly still
Fled by on quiet wings
Spun from the dreams
That we whispered to each other

poetry from 1984

"Two Lines or More"

It's me now, my neurosis
My doubts, I don't have any
Chopin is no doubt
The day was okay
The junk and the lines
And Marley and spliff
And lovers dedications
And what's in my head and nose and throat
And the soliloquy
And spiders
And dogs
And scorpios on bicycles
And of glowing lanterns
And tortured lives
And grinding jaws
And Bolero twice
Because of the cultural implications
And the lightning left
And the snow in March
And the junk in March
And the tryst and the travesty
And the lie
And the near forgotten and abandoned
Make it true
Save the Scorpio
But don't self sacrifice
Sleep

*****

He's the poet who knows it
Grooving up downtown bus stops at night
He'a a loser and he shows it
Chasing blue skies out of sight

Walking down side streets all day
Forgetting the way it used to be
Breezing up highways and byways
Always wanted to see free

Feel like a kite in the sky in the rain
Seeing the others just come and go
Technically denying the pain
Solving it all with some blow.