View the full text of this poem.
I.
it’s a white witch kind of Sunday
air like a dream catcher, crystal leaves, and all
the pixies from the night before are still standing,
rusted eyeshadow, breasts of wind
and hairs crossed like the
silk of a gin fizz on the back your throat
i woke up at a table for one,
brown-eyed and wild,
looking to do something radical
and a tattoo wasn’t going to cover it,
Steely Dan vinyl and a
heady cup of coffee,
waiting for a gentleman i
met in a dream, prophet-like,
hazy-eyed and wise handing me a
ticket for one
magic carpet ride
his voice was blue and his hair was fire
and he spoke as if he was taking off my
ear like the top of a tin, vibes all six blade knife,
digging me in at the heels
listen, he says, between the beard and the
uncommonly good-looking necktie,
every heart’s a room and
beautiful things don’t ask questions
they only want to be kissed
on the tips of the fingers
and you’ve got to be
a rebel, child, a sister of
the moon, never forget
the world you live in
we’re all the
same, sun color
built to match the
beds of our nails
you gotta have roots
‘cause nothing worth having comes from
trees anymore (shaking it all
out of his head somberly),
like journalists and
scholars rehearsing their
books full of buzzwords—they all fall the same—
and anyone who tells you different
should’ve got the piss knocked out of him
a long time ago
he was so convincing i
took another sip of coffee and
flipped my record to the B-side
heading west, i didn’t know where
saw a sign with the number seven,
figuring it had to be my
lucky day
sometimes you just gotta live by the wishes,
he says, dipping down low,
when your goals are on a road to nowhere and
all the street signs are busted and
some asshole’s turned out all the lights
*hooks left at a buffalo crossing
and blows a little girl a kiss*
you gotta lace up your boots and let your
soul do the walking, he says,
by leaving footprints, that’s how we grow
heroically
older
i got the feeling he was
once revolutionary
and wondered how many
times he wandered down
this Seven Road
on a carpet full of gold
looking for souls who
live by the boots, who are pulled
by the ends of the wild hair, whose spirits
live and die by the miracles of the
imagination, and who would rather get beat
to the knees and stand with
their dreams than walk alone when
every other road is closed and
they got nowhere to go
that, he says, is how
visionaries
are made,
that is why i
built this Road
alone
*Original artwork Ⓒ 2018 by T. Blake
Like a Fellini Martini dream
I was sorry to reach the end.
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Thank you very much 🙂
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I reread 3x the beauty of it is overwhelming. As is the sense of sadness. Beautiful
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Wow, thank you very much! I’m really glad you enjoyed it.
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You’re welcome. 😌😌
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Damn. Your way of narration, the images, the way you use colors, the message…. so beautiful. So perfect. You’re a perfect story teller whose stories I could never get tired of.
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Thank you so much, Bojana! I’ve already got the inkling that this particular one may not be finished…for long. 🙂
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☺ Thank you
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Yes, bravo Ma’am.
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Thank you very much, Lee 🙂
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This is a tale told in such amazing language. You truly paint the page.
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Thank you so much!
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Hi, I like to check out the blogs of those who happen by my place and leave a ‘like’ on a post, so I returned to read this.
Wow.
I am imagining this spoken like a Tom Waits story, all ‘9th and Hennepin’ style. Possibly by a female but perhaps not. Either way, stunning.
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Hi there,
Thank you very much for the kind words. I am happy you decided to stop by and that you enjoyed this. To have my poetry conform as naturally and beautifully as possible to the spoken word is actually an aspiration of mine. I very much appreciate the compliment.
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Impressively splendid!
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome U. Your writing is outstanding! As are many others work of course. Your work certainly stands alone! Enjoyable!
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As always, I appreciate the kind words. I very much enjoy your work, as well.
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Thank you! I often wonder about the evaluation of my words? My son’s are my biggest fans!! Who could ever want for more! Right? One day…I am going to take a blimp ride into the unknow, just to tap in on your inspiration!!😀
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Oh, I think we all wonder (maybe too much sometimes) how others evaluate our work. I think you are quite talented…and yes, if your sons are your biggest fans, then you really do have the best audience. 🙂 And let me know when you decide to take a ride way, way out there…maybe I’ll join you.
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Ha! Yes, do join me! What a blast it could be! But the ride does require one HUMUGUS martini glass, and a flask of inevitable humor! 😀☀️
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Hmm…I think I have just the glasses…🍸
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Yes U! One of those glasses is sitting atop your marvelous write..’Lady Song’. 😀
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I do. And thank you very much for remembering 😊
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I always enjoy your posts as you are such an imaginative and original writer. Keep up the good work.
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Thank you very much! I appreciate the kind words.
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Can’t believe I missed this one. Now I will go and read part 2.
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Well, I am glad you happened upon it! Thank you for reading 🙂
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Well, it happened again! This one really grabbed me by the goon-dahs. I felt creative, and painted in a mad fury for several hours without stopping. Exhausted. I wrote an e-mail regarding this one… 🙂
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Haha! And I’ve responded to your email…I love it!
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