Litkicks Message Board Archive

Jazz, rivers, and trains

Posted to Poetry




When the
stolen hours
slip off of me,
I greet
my underneath,
squarely.
Blackheart
quavers,
drawn to
dark edges,
stem
points,
unwavering,
to the sun.
Blind beginnings,
dramatic endings,
jazz, rivers and trains;
limosines I ride in,
on my rise,
into the sunset.