Friday, September 27, 2013


Smooth and stoned face
Flush and blooming
Pulsing in the flames
Of the fire between us

She looks different 
Like a cowboy flick
That was once black and white
Worn thin by color

Gutted gully walls
Becoming quiet bosoms
For worn men
And their weary travels

Not so many miles tonight
Just empty spaces
And whiskey jars
It is morning somewhere else

I write poems with the stars
While the day breaks with stories
Laid out like breakfast
On small porch tables

The yolks split open
Like cracked suns
Filling the gorge
With a river of untold tales

Washing away the grime
The haze of rusty water
Washing away the leftover ashes
From the fire between us

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