A drive-by home;
A parking lot;
Russell Street smoke bounds and trots
The smell of summer lingering high
A foggy tome;
The morning's hot
A pouring from my coffee pot
gracious blackened ice has gone and died
Winter's given way to summer
But springtime should have lasted longer
A time-lapse photograph right out my window
The buildings on the roundabout
Are falling as the ragweed sprouts,
breaking off into the temperate night glow
The sickly summertime has terrors in-tow
An overpass
Outside my door
The creaking of the hardwood floor
Milwaukee Junction's doting in its whiteness
The rain on Cass
The corridor
The mothers shouting, "Nevermore!"
They're worried 'bout the ever-dimming brightness
It's too much like their tripping, turning likeness
Winter's given way to summer
But springtime should have lasted longer
A time-lapse photograph right out my window
The buildings on the roundabout
Are falling as the ragweed sprouts,
breaking off into the temperate night glow
The sickly summertime has terrors in-tow
The rain on Cass
The corridor
The mothers shouting, "Nevermore!"
They're worried 'bout the ever-dimming brightness
It's too much like their tripping, turning likeness
Winter's given way to summer
But springtime should have lasted longer
A time-lapse photograph right out my window
The buildings on the roundabout
Are falling as the ragweed sprouts,
breaking off into the temperate night glow
The sickly summertime has terrors in-tow
The February Glow
up beyond the thick green water,
where no man meets a farmer's daughter,
a tattooed wily mistress washed her dress
from Saginaw, she made a drink
with blackened blood from her kitchen sink
and drank it down with gaul and cigarettes
i slept upon her Ferndale floor,
a husky barking at her door;
my dreams were crystalline, growing larger
i only got one goodbye kiss,
recklessness of tongue and twist—
my vertebrae and nerves were growing harder—
stiff and frozen like the river water
and i had
a drink with every laugh;
a needle in my back
a spike from railroad tracks—
but who knows
where her hipbones go?
the February glow
mixed within the chalky snow
Oh no…
Seventy-Five, it makes a dream
comparable to wine and sleep—
through Hazel Park and Royal Oak, i'm tainted
the way the sun rose in the north
as i walked off her concrete porch
my throat was so damn dry i almost fainted
when i was done, she bought me more—
a nicotine and liquor snore
my stomach and my heart felt something vile
no one could have guessed they'd see
me and her at night; it seems
that black and white and gray are in denial—
gagging themselves running down 9 Mile
and i had
a drink with every laugh;
a needle in my back
a spike from railroad tracks—
but who knows
where her hipbones go?
the February glow
mixed within the chalky snow
Oh no…
a telephone that never rings;
a country song she never sings;
something tells me i will never know
we fell asleep, the TV screen
was louder than the wintergreen—
none of us knew why we had no snow;
even more we didn't know why i couldn't go
and i had
a drink with every laugh;
a needle in my back
a spike from railroad tracks—
but who knows
where her hipbones go?
the February glow
mixed within the chalky snow
Oh no…
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