Tag Archives: blues harp
Of Unsalted Seas
A giant billboard boasts the intrinsic appeal of Duluth in winter. A woman paces back and forth beside a café table as she talks on her cell. I wouldn’t want to live in a cave or a cell or Duluth … Continue reading
Filed under Afternoon Poems
Lysistrata Dreaming
Not one of your death wish missions into another war torn land. This is mine: a summer night dream, sweaty without covers. The things we used to do together—drink, run, get naked in waterfalls, have sex, smoke years later—I don’t … Continue reading
Filed under Night Poems
Outside the Fence
Through galvanized steel diamonds, we exchange words. I can almost feel your breath brush off this skin I wear. As much as I want that zinc and wire to dissolve so I can touch your blues harp marred lips, please … Continue reading
Filed under Day Poems
What It’s Like to Be in Your Mouth (Day 2,314)
Free-reed aerophone bending notes in a head-shaking vibrato, Christian Friederich Buschmann, pocket sax, ten-holed tin can, tongue twister, Mississippi saxophone, migration to Chicago, Saint Louis, Detroit, New York. Distilling the blues, wearing the rack, pulmonary rehab—up to blow, down to … Continue reading
Filed under Day Poems
