Thursday, July 16, 2015

Banked Notes

I listen to the greats as rent ticks by
unpaid another week,
this elasticity of time and money an uneasy hat
fitting too well from use.

it's mostly jazz; the border music
of trombones, and hours black
as smoked mirrors, that I prefer to the sound
of slagging commissions bouncing on the down turned beat.

my shadow career tails me,
the trail of time cards littering an alley
like song sheets blown from a briefcase
minutes before a concert.

an instrument of His peace
holds time still for a stanza;
we whistle, work,
while sane people play their dues.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Tale Bone

sat still, rocking chair,
the clock un-phased
by chirrups.

neck roll
too many days gripped

to slide easy, bones
the best of my 

rain gutter
the minutes in

the mercy seat,
the God head,
the foot cramp.

monk make note to monkey;
muck out whatever stalls
the makeover.

list to the side,
listen to the roaring chorus,

passing for quiet.