Precious is the value of things
Laying down in silk
Folding each crease between your fingers
As the light summer wind blows lazily
On the floral window blinds.
An old tuned radio floats in,
Blending with traffic
That beeps and yells and screeches
Intermittently, unsymetrically
And my smile reaches across
The ancient carpeted room,
Parts threadbare,
Parts so coiled around this scene
That our precious breath
Falls together in romance.
Tag: radio
That Was Then (day 2863)
If that was then
Then this is by no means the end,
Two wheels rolling
And clouds so clear
Even birds faintly pass between them.
A dollar is gone.
Was it an even game?
A hand that served up
Delicious things, unnamed.
An engine that roared
As it began.
Lucky is every lost soul traveling on;
Full tank and such sweetness of a radio,
Then by two, sun’s beating in
Escaping for a moment into shade.
Watch Clouds and every bird so clear.
That was then and now is the end.
Fresh Hay (day 1847)
I wandered into an empty barn, and couldn’t figure out why the hay still smelt fresh. My eyes adjusted with a twinkling daylight filtering in through cracks in the wooden walls, dust that may have once been settled was caught suspended in the beams of light and my eyes scanned the well worn floor, distracted by the antique tools laying about as if still in use. How could I know what had come here before? How could, with a flash like a blink, memories flicker through my vision as if my transistor radio had suddenly happened upon a past I knew well?
Delicate as Love (day 1474)
Overnight, on a highway:
It’s a crystal castle,
Delicate as love
On a midnight escapade
Down a busy London street.
Thump thump
Is my heart,
My radio telling me without words,
Traffic hazard lights
On a steep incline.
I’m not bad,
I’m just dry as a desert rose,
Hot as an exposed armadillo,
Wandering like two lone buffalo,
Not much to say,
Lonely to the very hooves I stomp,
Dust and hunters hunting.