PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Subsonic All Stars

Woke up chewing on an organic
beer can after
an evening with the poets
70 foggy miles up the coast from here
my Yater t-shirt, my St. Christopher
medal, my sunglasses, my tattoo
& my poems
probably all that hold me to this world
plus other less obvious perhaps inventories
no doubt explicit by omission

Pamela sleeps in the other room
I sip at half a cup of coffee
my friends are all far away, living lives I
don’t understand & only partly believe

& the poem continues to spill off the page
a   b   c   d   e   f
7 million crooked typewriter keys
because I cling to certain retro habits
knife & fork, pen & paper, the
faded signature

trapeze clouds

steam-driven guitars