Hung up on my hearing and deep in whose playbook one too many nights and never a black-out Doing the best I can, only a man It hurts me too Blues in the night Verlaine Blues sitting here thinking a blues for Anne (all nerves) and mine the most dirty unhurried afternoon jags A freshly penned lyric for sinking to autumnal atlantean shade I wish us more luck I wish my little tiger lily sheltered in a clear crystal box (being carried) Green pearl-handled mallets edging the annunciation toward a new burn The chamber of maiden thought is metered Big fields villagers, stars on the back-lot blues it’s the smoke spot I shade softest a curve so tight its really blind the chamber gives way to the word in this case (mine) Copyright © 2014 by Cedar Sigo. Used with permission of the author. |
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