August 23, 2012

a poem for two voices. maybe.

we wrote this yesterday morning, line by line and one plus one is two.  came to 8.   we played this:



a)                    Smooth jazz and serrated cutlery
b)                    Jagged wounds and swelling strings
a)                    Cross my mind with other things
b)                    And these things may not be denied

a)                     I’m tiptoeing through the flood:
b)                     Of ennui and disaster
a)                     And 40 days til noon
b)                     Is too long to wait to see your eyes.

 ***


oh morning man, you were a doozy!  and the coffee had just come. 


the surrealists had so much right, and i will, little poem, to play with you some more--you have great promise, to amuse-moi,  at the least.