post

trashpo
ezOP
(1/19/07 5:12 pm)
Reply | Edit | Del
ezSupporter
Re: black dog


well you couldn't know this but
a while back 2ybf and i were discussing
how adolescent he is and the men my age
too and i guess you could call it
a fight cuz there were raised voices and tears and this
kind of behaviour continued for a couple days
one or the other of us
with unresolved issues but last nite he picks up
his guitar
and says let's write a song
together and so he picks and i hum
and try to find lyrics to the last
joint with santa xmas song but gravel
has some kind of upstream server
error so i begin to write
something about a black dog moving down
the road and thinkin how that dog might
signify me or it might be
him cuz like he always admits, men r dogs so it prolly was
and he strums down
hard
on the chord he's playin on then lays
his guitar down, stands up and sez why are you writing
about dogs u know i hate dogs
and i ask him would it make you feel any better
if i told you i was gonna kill it off

and lookee
here today dancer you post a piece about a black dog too
and i get that sync feeling and wonder wtf it is god's tryin to tell me now.






penneye
Unregistered User
(1/12/07 12:45 am)
Reply | Edit | Del electroc

vines, dried
ferny, fenny
& int
ermit ttt t
tent american
airlines water
f
a
l
l
l
L


&
also


the high cricket
exhaust whined and also
in the general
background
the echoes of a camera
or not.


on the other side
a groove of infant
mangoes, snakey water
hose a hidden spot
smoke

a little
yoga

here or even
rabbit
going to ground



upbeatnlucky
Unregistered User
(1/12/07 12:22 am)
Reply | Edit | Del All

into the marsh


we followed the faint glow of the guide
past the last turnoff, there was even a sign


"last U
turn this
side"


the hammocks got further apart
and we began to jump, reminding each
other of frogs, so we laughed
despite the deeping bloom


there was a fiddle and some words on fire
before the snake handlers appeared.
there's always a fiddle, and a singer.
these were the solid ground.

stomping does no good, only rouses an ire
that's best left well thumbed and dog eared;
best put on the shelf called malingerer.
what went around came around.


water gathered in our soles, darting
fish pooled at the steep edges , leached
stories stumbling from the ship's aft
where silence keeps a room.