1.
Tea kettle hopping
whistling for a bit of attention.
Here I sit
across the room
rolled sleeves
hunched and furrowed
eyes flashing
a late night jamming of keys
letting the words fall
my mind not in place.
Watching letters I
didn't pick
floating together
becoming a thought
I didn't realize
I was thinking.
Violins in the back of my
mind, thoughts of
earlier in the day
an orchestra.
Now sweet jazz laps
gently into my ears
but my mind
still
isn't
here.
Leaning back, looking
longingly out a foggy window
the world moving lazily
down the puddled street
I need more
I want more
but what it is
eludes me.
Abstract pleasures
floating in a haze
my mind is playing
catch-up
with
my
soul.
I'm not in the mood
for games.
2.
Loosened tie
the top few buttons
undone
like a trumpeter
hat pushed back
a few drops of sweat
find their way down
my neck.
The sun strips the
starch
from my collar
coffee smacks
of unfulfilment
and my nose
declares the air
inhospitable
This chair is giving way.
I need a new scene
a new brewhouse
a new face.
These dice aren't rolling
my way.
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1 comment:
Your images are like brushstrokes upon a creamy canvas. The jazz and your longing soul are azure and crimson, textured to the touch...I feel as though the words are whispered. I am anxious to see what steps are next as you dance in the sleepy yellowed light...
Tigra
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